The Guardian
by Concolor44
Summary: Anna has questions that Kristoff never considered. He is about to get a crash course in what it means to be the only human who wears fire crystals. The larger question, though, is whether anyone will be left alive to appreciate the answers, if he can find them. (NOTE: Rating has changed due to highly descriptive scenes of battle in "Ready, Fire, Aim!".)
1. Prologue

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 **Prologue**

 _Four months after Elsa's Coronation: mid-November 1840, 8:45pm_

The ancestral home of Brian James Marcellus Clade, Seventh Duke of Weselton, deserved every nuance of the word 'palace'. Weselton had a long, long history of highly lucrative trade arrangements, and the wealth of nations passed through its ports. The Ducal Manor, as a result, was one of the larger constructions of its type in Europa. His father had installed gas-lights. His grandfather, a system of water-closets and indoor plumbing. His great-grandfather had established the Manor as one of the better collections of Renaissance paintings in three continents. The Seventh Duke was cast from the same mold. Every luxury, every "new thing" that came along, the Duke had to have it. And he had the gold to get it.

So it was in the height of luxury that he entertained his guest. The height of luxury … but the depths of apprehension.

"I will admit, Baron Flambeau, that the Queen's actions were personally costly."

"To say the least."

"In hindsight, though – and I've had a bit of time for introspection – I cannot say I wouldn't have done the same in her place."

"Poppycock!"

"Hardly. My informants have given me an exhaustive report of her own activities and civic policy since she assumed the throne, and her freezing the entire country was merely a fluke. A fluke that, from all the most accurate information I have, is unlikely to be repeated. I must say, given what I've learned, I wouldn't object to being a citizen of Arendelle under her rule. She has a most enlightened approach to taxation and tariffs, among many other excellent decisions." He swirled his snifter of brandy and took an appreciative sip. "I was, let us say, _precipitous_ in my actions at the time. I feared we would all freeze if she weren't stopped. For all that, I was probably right, but the stopping of it couldn't have been accomplished by the means at my disposal. Killing her, in all likelihood, would have cemented the winter as eternal and doomed us all." He drew a deep sigh and gazed steadily at his visitor. "I have been working on a document, an official apology that I hope she will be gracious enough to accept."

"An apology?! After what she did to you?"

The Duke frowned, gazing into his brandy. He had a well-developed ability to judge other men's character, and this French dandy rang any number of alarm bells in his head. "I owe her one. Considering that my men did their best to kill her, she could have had us all beheaded for attempted regicide. In her place, I would have clapped my attackers in irons and fed them on bread and water until they were old and feeble. Simply ending our trade agreements instead was an act of extreme generosity."

Baron Flambeau got to his feet. "As a representative of the French government, I must protest." The man had the most unusual yellow-golden eyes, the pupils tiny even in low light, and the iris nearly the same color as what would in anyone else be white. The Duke would have suspected a liver ailment except that the Baron seemed to be in otherwise excellent health. Still, those eyes were unsettling.

The Duke rose as well. Short, he may be, but he wasn't going to take any guff off this prissy, self-important bureaucrat. "I don't believe you have _standing_ to protest _anything_. If you are so invested in pursuing a vendetta against the Queen of Arendelle, you'll have to do it without me." He held out a hand toward the door. "I will have my guards escort you to your rooms."

"I think not."

The Duke drew a breath to call his men … but then found he couldn't move. Panic rose in his eyes.

Baron Flambeau stepped slowly toward the Duke, muttering under his breath. When they were nearly nose-to-nose, his eyes took on a sickly yellow glow. "No, Your Grace, what we are going to do is continue our chat. But now we will do it on my terms."

That was when the Duke noticed the cracks in the man's skin: tiny cracks, like the crazing seen in some ceramic glazes, through which could be glimpsed, ever so briefly, a reddish glow. He tried really hard to scream. Nothing came out.

"Now. Have a seat."

Brian James Marcellus Clade moved jerkily back to his chair and sat.

"Very good. Now we will discuss the various sins of the Winter Witch and what you are going to do about them. I _WILL_ have my honor back."

A couple of beads of sweat made their slow way down the side of the Duke's face.

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 _The Valley of the Living Rock_

Grandpabbie had been feeling out of sorts all day.

He cast the stones, but they told him little he didn't already know. Once darkness came, he sat for an hour and studied the stars for more signs, noting the appearance of a new comet. Their message, however, was just as vague as that of the stones.

The disturbed feeling was growing. Someone was toying with destiny. Someone with evil intent. Someone who had _no_ _ **idea**_ what strings he was pulling.

He wandered aimlessly among his sleeping kin, seeking solace, seeking answers. Stopping beside one of the steam vents, he stared down into its depths as night deepened, as clouds moved in from the west, as the feeling became an itch in his bones …

The vent gave a particularly hot squirt of vapor. Not that the heat could harm Pabbie, but he stepped back anyway … and that was when the ripple fell across his mind.

Magic. Dark magic. Magic of ill intent, and as every true practitioner knew, intent was the soul of magic.

He knelt and placed his hand on an outcropping of bedrock, stilling, listening, waiting …

The Answer came, and he shook his heavy head. _I should have consulted the Earth first, and not bothered with the stars._ Standing, he looked sadly around at his family, then up at the sky. "So. It begins."

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 ** _Author's Note: This one has nothing to do with any of my other "Frozen" tales. Kristoff has a starring role here, as I feel I have sadly neglected him to date._**

 ** _Any thoughts on where this might be going? I'd be very interested to hear. Be aware that the plot is essentially finished, as is Chapter One._**

 ** _Reviews = Love!_**


	2. Crystals

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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DISCLAIMER:  
 _I didn't say so in the Prologue, but in case anyone wonders (and, really, no one should, because DUH) I have no financial, contractual, or officially creative connection with "Frozen" or Disney/Pixar. At all. In any respect. Period._

 _This story, while a flight of fancy entirely my own, is fully based on movie canon, so if you have seen "Frozen" you have all the background you need in order to follow what's going on here. And if you haven't seen "Frozen" ... geez, what rock have YOU been living under? Go immediately to Amazon Prime or Netflix or Hulu or Redbox (or pretty much anywhere) and WATCH IT!_

 _Enjoy!_

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 **Chapter 1: Crystals**

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There wasn't really a time of year that Anna didn't like.

Each season had its own charm, though as far north as Arendelle lay, Summer was usually mild and short. For all that, it gave her a chance to splash barefoot in the fjord. The crisp days of Autumn brought a riot of color to the forests, and wreathes of red and yellow leaves might be found throughout the castle. Winter, of course, meant sledding and snowball fights, snowmen and ice skating, icicles to crunch and mulled cider later by the fire. Considering her older sister's rather unique abilities, she could hardly help but love the cold months. It just seemed right.

But Spring had always been, and probably always would be her favorite. The promise of new life; the budding fruit trees; the fresh, cool breezes; the carpets of wildflowers in every meadow and high valley – it fair made her soul sing.

Nor was that the only reason her soul had for casting a paean to the skies.

Anna flicked her eyes to the left, over the top of the large picnic basket, to the rugged profile of the tall blond man who shared her side of the carriage. The roads had recently been cleared of winter's debris, and their conveyance was cunningly sprung, so the trip thus far had been smooth and pleasant, the light rattle of the wheels marking counterpoint to the jingling of the harnesses on the trotting horses the Guard rode before and behind. It hadn't even interfered at all with the near-constant chatter she kept up with her handmaid, Lydia.

Realizing that their conversation had stopped, and feeling her eyes on him, Kristoff turned his head and grinned. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." Her own smile got wider as her eyes sparkled.

 _Thor's Beard, but she's beautiful!_ This thought skittered across his mind as he drank in those fjord-blue eyes, that flame of hair, the light dusting of freckles on smooth cheeks, her completely adorable little nose. Shaking himself back to the conversation, he retorted, "I don't think I believe you."

"Are you doubting the word of your Princess? How could you? I am entirely trustworthy."

"I trust you to have some sort of mischief hidden around."

"Well, there you go. Trustworthy!"

"So you're saying you _are_ planning something devious?"

"I never said that. Don't put words in my mouth." She pointed past him. "Oh, look! Bunnies!"

He tried following her finger, but nothing came to light. "Where?"

"Over there at the base of that big rock."

 _What rock? All I can see is forest. What is she pointing –_ "AAAIIGHHH! Coldcoldcold!" He brushed frantically at his neck. "What the hell, Anna?"

It took her half a minute to calm her laughter down to the point that she could speak intelligibly. "You … you … oh, Lord, your face!" She held up a cylindrical container that was about a handspan across and maybe half again that tall. "I had to beg Elsa for _weeks_ to make this for me! SO worth it!"

He shot the dark-haired handmaid a wounded glance. "I guess you were in on this, too."

Holding up both hands, she said, "I can neither confirm nor deny your assertion, Sir Bjorgman." Then she made a lock-the-lip motion.

After getting the rest of the un-melted snow off the back of his head, he gave Anna a steady look and stated, "If we're gonna start a prank war, I'll have to warn you that I learned from the best. They aren't _just_ love experts. So think long and carefully about the consequences before you start something you have _no chance at all_ of winning."

"Ooooo, a challenge!"

"No, it's not a challenge; just a plain fact. I have years of experience with pranks, and even with a magic bucket on your side …"

"Okay, okay, geez, so serious. It was just a little snow."

"It's May, Anna. We're done with snow for a few months. Even if ice _is_ my life, I like a little break now and then, and what I _don't_ need is a soaked collar."

She gave a heartfelt sigh. "All right. I get it. Here."

Focusing on the object in her hand, he suspiciously asked, "What is it?"

"A snow drier."

"… A what, now?"

"Elsa made me promise to give it to you after the dump."

Taking the small, rectangular case in one hand, he looked it over and shrugged. "What's it do?"

"It's doing it now."

Kristoff felt a sudden warmth at his neck. A slight puff of vapor cleared his collar. With an incredulous smile, he felt the now-dry material of his shirt. "Well I'll be damned."

"More than likely, given the way you treat your girlfriend."

"Anna! This thing is … does this … was that _magical_ snow? No, wait, of course it was. But does this work on natural snow?"

"Beats me. But Elsa wouldn't give me the bucket until she finished making that. Said something about a summer cold being a real misery, and she wouldn't wish it on an enemy, much less a good friend."

"I appreciate that attitude. You should take notes."

"Hey, I gave you the snow-drier, didn't I? Didn't I?"

"It wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't dumped snow on me in the first place."

"And where's the fun in that?"

He pursed his lips, fighting off a grin. "You're incorrigible, you are."

The carriage slowed to a halt. "Your Highness?" came a voice from the driver's seat. "The Long Meadow is just ahead."

"… Okay?" Anna blinked at the information. "That's sorta the idea, isn't it? A picnic by the oxbow?"

"I'm sending two of the Guard ahead to secure the area."

"Oh, please! We aren't barely an hour from the castle! Who'd be here, anyway?"

"Brigands. Kidnappers. Assassins. Bandits. Thieves. Rogues. Disgruntled–"

"Fine, fine! Holy cats, but you guys are paranoid."

"Queen's orders, Your Highness."

"Great. Now Elsa's paranoid, too."

He muttered to himself, "I don't think I'd couch it in those terms." Louder, so she could hear, he added, "You know the trouble Weselton has been trying to make for us. That Duke is without a _shred_ of honor, and lying about Arendelle and the good Queen is his new hobby. Your sister is merely taking reasonable precautions."

Anna grumbled, more or less quietly, until one of the Guard returned and gave the all-clear. Ten minutes later, she and Kristoff were seated on a large ground-cloth while Lydia fussed about, getting their lunch arranged.

Lydia, the daughter of a local shipwright and a year Anna's senior, had become a fixture in the Princess's life shortly after Elsa learned of her sister's interest in Kristoff. At first, rebelliously, Anna had insisted that she didn't _need_ a maid, much less a chaperon, and had given the girl the slip on several occasions so she could spend time with her boyfriend alone. But one diplomatic near-disaster involving a linen closet, a prissy Austrian Count, a torn bodice, an angry cat and a bucket of dirty mop-water had led Elsa to have a long, long, _long,_ _ **loooooooong**_ talk with her about propriety, scandal, and the duties of a Queen and a Princess to their kingdom.

Thoroughly chastised, Anna had accepted Lydia after that. Soon enough, they were friends. Within a month, they were inseparable.

Not long afterward, Anna came to appreciate her sister's wisdom in making the change. She and Kristoff were soul-mates who truly loved each other to distraction, and on more than one occasion, had Lydia not been present, things might have gotten heated enough to breach barriers of intimacy that simply couldn't afford to be breached. (Yet.) Sure, Arendelle had (mostly) accepted a Snow Queen as their monarch, but her position was _hardly_ one hundred percent secure. The _last_ thing she needed now was a moral scandal.

Lunch was most pleasant. The Guard stationed themselves in pairs at four points around the meadow while the couple-with-an-understanding-plus-friend-doubling-as-chaperon enjoyed the clear sky, mild sun, and fresh breeze.

One of the many things that Anna and Kristoff had learned about each other was their marked differences in food preferences. She loved sweets and craved cocoa above all things. He appreciated the savory, and the stronger the better (extremely sharp cheese with sour pickled onions was a particular delicacy). That led to each of them trying some interesting combinations. Elsa had once walked into the kitchen to find them sampling various types of chocolate-dipped fish while Lydia cowered in a corner with a towel across her mouth and nose. The Queen immediately had a brace of banners drawn up: "WARNING: ROYAL FOOD EXPERIMENT IN PROGRESS. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK." These, she _insisted_ they post whenever they got the urge for gustatory wanderings.

This by way of explaining that the array of condiments present at the picnic would have flummoxed most experienced chefs. No fewer than fourteen small bottles and jars occupied a tray in the cloth's center.

Anna had introduced Kristoff recently to the charms of Turkish Delight. He, in turn had managed to acquire a jar of peri-peri, a spicy sauce from Portugal made of some rather hot chili peppers. They each agreed that the combination was uniquely delicious (although their preference for proportions differed widely). Both items were represented. They also had a fennel paste, three kinds of mustard, basil pesto, rosemary-infused butter, thin eel sauce, ground cinnamon, pickled ginger, a gray sauce made from fermented shark, black pepper, and salt mixed with turmeric. In addition, they'd brought a selection of smelly cheeses, strips of dried goat and herring, a few loaves of crusty bread, a small keg of ale, a bottle of white wine, and small flask of fresh reindeer blood. (Now don't be like that. In the first place, it was a staple of the Sami diet; in the second, it was no one Sven knew.)

Lydia sat at the far corner of the cloth. Upwind.

The first quarter hour passed in uneventful, light conversation, punctuated by the occasional 'Oh, that's a good combo!' or 'Bleah. Why would anyone eat that together?' or 'Hey, you've gotta try this!' However, at one point Kristoff was pouring the shark sauce onto a piece of mutton when a bee flew into his face. That would startle anyone … and the ice harvester was no fan of bees. He jerked hard, and about half the bottle of sauce spilled down the front of his shirt.

That sauce had been on Anna's 'Yuck List', and now her boyfriend was covered with it. She held her nose and complained, "Kristoff! Now we get to smell that stuff the whole way back to the castle!"

"Hey, no problem! There's a stream right over there. I'll have this washed out in a minute." So saying, he stood and whipped off his shirt and …

This would probably be a good time to share a few pertinent points of information.

One is that Kristoff, having been raised by trolls who generally didn't wear much, had no body-shame issues _**at all**_. He wore the clothes he did mainly because of his profession since he'd rather not freeze to death, and because it had been explained to him (rather casually, truth be told) that human societies expected it. Under most circumstances his shirts and pants tended toward the loose and comfortable. When by himself in nice weather, he'd walk around in a loin cloth, if that.

Another is that Anna had never seen him without a shirt on before. The occasion had never come up. Oh, it wasn't that she hadn't _wanted_ to. After a few of their stolen kisses, such things tended to occupy her dreams more-or-less regularly. But the concept was always sort of … abstract. There were reproductions of certain classical paintings (and one statue in the gardens) that gave her a notion of how he might look naked. But various artists had different ideas of what made a man a man, so her concept remained hazy.

Lastly – and this is probably the most important to the situation at hand – Kristoff was a tall, sturdy fellow of almost twenty-four who had worked practically all his life as an ice harvester. This is hard, physically demanding work that requires great strength, and a level of stamina to match. And it showed. It showed in the lean planes of abdominal muscle, the thick bunching of the thews of his shoulders, the cords of meaty sinew in his forearms, the hard slopes around his neck and chest, most of which boasted a sprinkling of dark blond hair.

Anna took in a sharp gasp. Lydia's mouth dropped open. Both of them stared.

"Yeah, this'll be no problem," he continued as he turned and walked away to the stream.

The girls followed his progress intently. His back muscles were at least as finely-sculpted as those in front. Anna found that she had fisted the top of her bodice in one hand, and could feel the color rising in her cheeks. She and Lydia exchanged a look. The handmaid mouthed, "You lucky thing!"

Anna turned back to watch as Kristoff knelt and washed out the shirt. She hardly even blinked.

He walked back a few minutes later, wringing out the stream-water from the shirt. Avidly did Anna follow the play of muscles in his arms through this action, their subtle (and not so subtle) rise and fall as he twisted the shirt.

He laid it out on the grass beside them, then plopped back down in his spot. "There! I think I got all the smell out. And in the nice, warm sun like that, it'll be dry in no time." He reached for another chunk of mutton.

There was no answer from either girl.

While chewing his first bite, he noticed the stares. Flicking his eyes back and forth between them, he swallowed and asked, "Are you okay?"

Anna, her breath shallow, had her gaze glued to his chest. She tried to tear her eyes away, honestly she did. But that much will-power simply wasn't available at the moment. The fact that he wore a clutch of fire crystals on a thin leather braid around his neck didn't even register.

Lydia finally squeaked out, "D-do you have … another shirt?"

Her question seemed to puzzle him deeply. "Well, no. Why would I?"

"A, um, a …" She coughed. Gulped a breath. "How about a jacket?"

"In _this_ nice weather? Don't be silly." Turning to Anna, he reached over and touched her hand. "Anna, seriously, are you all right? You're … sort of pink. But we haven't been here long enough to get a sunburn, so I … I … Wait a minute." He grinned and sat back. "You're embarrassed!"

"Eep!"

"That's so funny!"

"Urk!"

"I don't think I've ever seen you embarrassed before. Well, not like this … of course there _was_ that one time with that Count who …"

"We agreed not to ever mention that again!" she hissed, suddenly in better control of her reactions (and finally looking him in the eyes).

"Okay, okay! Don't get your back up." He looked down at himself, then stood, arms akimbo. "Seriously, though? You're embarrassed because I'm not wearing a shirt? How weird is that?"

Lydia mumbled, "Not weird at all."

"But the Guard half the time practice their unarmed combat lessons shirtless. What's the big deal?"

"For one, I was never allowed to _watch_ the Guard grapple each other half-naked. For two … well, how would you feel if the situation was reversed?" She clapped a hand over her mouth, astonished at her own brazen words.

"Ha! We nearly did when you tripped over that bucket of …"

"We _**said**_ we were _**not**_ going to _**speak**_ of it!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just think it's funny, that's all. I mean … haven't you ever been in a sauna?"

"Of course. _By myself!_ "

"Well, then, I guess you're in for an uncomfortable hour or so while my shirt dries." He stood again, slooooooowly stretched while giving her an amused smirk, and checked the level of dampness in that article of clothing. "Huh. Maybe not even an hour. I wrung it out pretty good."

"Thank God."

He sobered up a bit and regarded her curiously. "It really is bothering you, isn't it?"

"Not just her," admitted Lydia.

"I … suppose I _could_ go take a walk in the woods for a while, give it time to dry."

Lydia sat up straight and said, "Hang on just a tick." Then she rose and went to their carriage, returning immediately with something draped over her arm. "Here," she said, holding it out to Kristoff, high color in her cheeks.

He took it and unfolded it, then quirked an eyebrow at her. "You brought two ground-cloths?"

"In case one got, you know, wet. From dew. Or something." She was looking anywhere but at him. (Anna, on the other hand, wasn't even _pretending_ not to stare.)

He shrugged and flung it about his shoulders. "Desperate times, isn't that what they say?" He folded it across his front like a cloak. "There. Better?"

Anna let out a long breath. "In a … manner of speaking. At least now you can sit here without us hyperventilating."

"And who wouldn't want to do that, eh?" He folded his legs, arranged the makeshift cloak so that it wouldn't fall open, and reached for a piece of the Turkish Delight, swabbing it liberally with hot sauce.

"What's that around your neck?"

"Hmm?"

"Those gems or whatever they are. I've seen them before somewhere … somewhere …" Her brow furrowed in thought.

"You mean my fire crystals?"

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 **End Note: Fire Crystals? What the heck is KRISTOFF doing with Fire Crystals? Aren't those a strictly troll thing? I guess we'll find out in the next chapter.**

 **Reviews = Love!**


	3. Troll Logic

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 ** _Author's Note: This one hasn't been beta-read. I've been through it several times, but I ALWAYS miss something, so if you see a goof, PM me and let me know, k?_**

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 **Chapter 2: Troll Logic**

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"Fire crystals? Is that what they're called? That's a really pretty orange. How come …" Her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers. "That's where I've seen 'em before! The trolls were wearing the same kinds of gems."

"Oh, I don't think they qualify as gems, exactly. That's not what they're for."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, see, a troll earns the first fire crystal when …"

"Whoa. Earns? I remember some of them were just _decked out_ in those things!"

"Yeah. Trolls live a long time, and whenever one does something …"

"Are they like rank badges?"

"What? No!"

"That old troll … Grand-Something?"

"Grandpabbie?"

"Yeah, him. His were different."

Kristoff gave her a look. "What do you mean by 'different'?"

"… I dunno. They just … felt different."

"Maybe it was _him_ you were picking up on. He's the one that knows most about magic."

"Eh. Maybe." She gestured at his crystals. "So what are they for?"

"Different things. Trolls are magical just anyway, so they can _use_ magic, but the younger ones can be really, ah, foolish with it, so …"

"Is that part of that 'prank experts' thing you mentioned?"

"And how! Anyway, before a troll can begin to learn about _really_ using its magic, it has to show a level of responsibility. That's why Krondy was so proud to show off that he'd earned his first crystal."

"Oh! So … the more crystals, the more responsible a troll is?"

"In a roundabout fashion, yeah. But that's only part of it. They also play into troll religion."

"Trolls have _religion?_ " Lydia sputtered.

Anna breathed, "Huh. Never really gave _that_ idea much thought."

"Well, sure." He nodded. "They're a type of Earth Elemental. They follow the Old Ways."

That brought a sharp gasp from Anna. "You mean," she whispered, "like human sacrifice?"

Kristoff's eyes rolled so hard they could practically hear it. "Oh, come on! Seriously? Don't be ridiculous. As far as I know, _humans_ are the only species that practices human sacrifice. No, I mean they respect the Elemental Lords, care for the Earth, and celebrate the seasons. The well-being of the Earth is sort of their responsibility. The parts of it we can see, that is. They don't have anything to do with waters."

"Or air?" asked Lydia.

"Right. Or fire, either. Just earth and rocks and whatnot. And, well, things that grow in the earth. Some of them." He scratched his head. "I never was really sure where the cutoff point was."

"Oh." Anna thought that over for a few seconds. "Soooooo … where'd they come from?"

He shrugged. "Where'd humans come from?"

"God made people."

"Maybe God made trolls, too."

The Princess worked that one around a bit. "But … why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why would God make two different intelligent races? And why give magic to just one?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "In the first place, what makes you think there are only two intelligent races? And besides that, what do you call what your sister does? Party tricks?"

"That's different!"

"I don't see how."

"It just is."

Kristoff knew a closed subject when it popped him on the nose. Grinning, he started in on the dried fish again.

After half a minute of nothing but chewing sounds, Anna asked, "So, how'd you end up with fire crystals? You don't look like you're part troll."

"No such thing as 'part troll'. The two races can't cross-breed, not even with magic."

"Don't dodge the question."

"I'm not. Just making a point." He wiped his mouth. "I got my first crystal when I was about twelve."

She didn't question his use of the word 'about' in relation to his age. They'd established months ago that he didn't know when his birthday was. "Really? What did you do to earn it?"

"Showed some responsibility."

"Heh. Just like a troll."

"They _are_ my family."

"So, can you do magic?"

"Of course not! I'm a human."

"So then the crystals themselves are magic? Is that right?"

That stopped him. He had honestly never considered the question from that angle before. It was just one of those things that _was_ , that no one questioned. Like air. "I … don't know."

"So how do the trolls use 'em?"

"They focus magic through them."

"Does that mean the crystals don't, like, _store_ magic?"

That was another one he'd not examined. He gave her a shrug.

"Well, what do yours do? You've got _five_ , you must know _something_ about them!"

He lifted them up in front of his face and studied them.

"What's that cord made of?"

"Braided leather."

"Hmh." She held out a hand. "Can I see them?"

He scooted over beside her where she could get a good look at them lying across his palm.

"No, I mean take it off."

"Oh. Nope, can't do that."

She opened her mouth and closed it once, one eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"

"I never take 'em off."

"… Really."

"Yes, really."

"You mean you _never_ take off that necklace? For anything?"

"Nope. Not for going on a dozen years."

"Doesn't it get … kinda icky?"

"No. The crystals … well, they keep the cord leather soft and supple and clean." Then, sort of to himself, he murmured, "Huh. I guess they _are_ magical, at least that much."

Anna reached for the braided cord, twirling it between her fingers and thumb. "Do you think I could get some?"

Her question surprised him after what he'd told her, but he just shrugged and said, "No. I think you'd have to join the family. They don't give them to outsiders, ever. That much I _do_ know."

She dimpled and said, "Join the family? That can be arranged."

His grin was epic. "I like the way you think."

Lydia loudly and pointedly cleared her throat.

Anna gave her an exasperated look. "What? We're just flirting! He's my fiancé, for God's sake!"

"Yes, and you know how easy it is for you two to get carried away with it."

"Oh, really? Out here in front of eight guards, and you? How carried away could we get?"

"Best not to stir the waters in the first place."

"Hey, it's not my fault! Talk to Mister Walk-Around-Half-Naked over there."

Kristoff chuckled. "Still don't know why you think it's such a big deal."

The girls chorused, "It just is, okay?"

He held up both hands in surrender. "Fine! Whatever." But in doing so, he dislodged his makeshift cape, which slid away into a soft heap around him. He looked down at it and sighed.

The girls didn't say anything about it. Just stared.

He shrugged. "Sorry. It slipped."

Lydia shot a glance at Anna and gave her head a tiny jerk in Kristoff's direction.

"… What?"

"Aren't you going to, you know, tell him to … um … cover up again?"

"… Why don't _you_ tell him."

"He's _your_ fiancé."

"That's _your_ ground-cloth."

"Technically, it's Queen Elsa's, being part of the castle stock."

"Okay, then, we'll let _her_ tell him to cover up."

Kristoff's laugh was long and loud. "I don't believe you two! Getting that bothered by a little skin."

Lydia gave a small cough. "If God had wanted you to walk around bare, He wouldn't have invented shirts."

"I'm pretty sure _people_ invented shirts."

"No, it says in the Scriptures, God made Adam and Eve clothes out of animal skins."

"Shame I don't have an animal skin to throw on, then."

She huffed, "It's the same principle!"

Shaking his head, he gathered up the ground-cloth and re-arranged it like a poncho. "This isn't very comfortable, you know."

Anna sniffed, "It wouldn't have been a problem if you'd kept your shirt clean."

"Yeah, well, next time pick a spot for a picnic that doesn't have any bees."

The Princess, none too fond herself of things that could both fly and sting, didn't have a ready comeback. Finally she said, "Well, no matter, once we're married you can talk Grandpappy into …"

"Pabbie."

"Whatever. You can talk him into getting me a fire crystal, too."

That gave Kristoff a bit of a pause. "I … don't think he'd do that."

"Oh, come on! He'd make an exception for a Princess, wouldn't he?"

"I think that might be one of the reasons he _wouldn't_."

She crossed her arms and grumped. "Not fair."

"Fair doesn't have anything to do with it. The crystals have deep meaning for the trolls. They aren't just decoration." He leaned in her direction. "And isn't that what you want them for?"

"… Um …"

"I rest my case."

"SO not fair."

He tried a different tack. "Well, look, even if …" But then he stopped as a pair of the Guard ran up to them.

"Highness! There's a large group of men moving this way! We have to hurry!"

They didn't bother with the picnic basket or the ground cloth. Kristoff snatched up his half-dry shirt and shrugged into it as they ran for the horses.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note: Obviously, the Guard were aware that such an encounter was a possibility. If they hadn't been watching carefully, they wouldn't have been ABLE to give the alarm._**

 ** _Reviews = Love!_**


	4. Realpolitik

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 ** _Okay, we had our little fluffy interlude. Now, shite's gonna get real. And keep in mind this time-tested axiom: Most people suck._**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 3: Realpolitik**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 10 May 1841, 7:50pm_

Anna huffed, "If we'd had a telescope, it wouldn't have been an issue."

"That is entirely beside the point. Everyone is on edge. You thought _they_ were the bad guys. _They_ thought _you_ were the bad guys. If Rolf hadn't recognized his brother's horse … things could have … it just doesn't bear thinking about." Elsa leaned her elbows on the desk and her face into her hands and took a few deep breaths. "This is just so exhausting."

Twisting her lips in concern, Anna stepped over and wrapped her sister in a gentle hug. "I'm sorry."

"Not _your_ fault." Her voice was muffled.

"I know. It's Duke Stupid-Head's fault."

"He's not the only one."

"He's the main one! If he hadn't sent that emissary to Rome and got 'em all stirred up with 'sorceress' this and 'witchcraft' that, we wouldn't be having this big stink with the Vatican right now!"

Elsa couldn't really argue with that. Still … "I just can't help thinking, what if that troop had been invaders instead of my own soldiers?"

"Well, they weren't. So don't worry about it. And you might consider having them wear their uniforms when they're on patrol, so we don't make that mistake again."

"The uniforms are too easy to spot. That's why they were dressed in gray and brown and dark green motley."

"… Huh?"

The Queen raised red-rimmed eyes to her sister. "We came up with the camouflage after … well … not that you knew about it. I didn't … want you to worry. But two weeks ago we lost a patrol to an ambush precisely because they _**were**_ that easy to spot."

Anna rocked back. "… Oh."

"Yes. And now I'm thinking that the enemy may be using the same tactics, and so they would be able to get close enough to you to … to …"

"Shhhh. Shh. It's okay." Anna noted the spidery trails of frost growing across the desk and gave her sister's brow a kiss. "We'll stick close for a while until you're sure it's safe. Okay?"

"Anna …" She gripped her sister's hand with one of her own. "If something happened to you it would _**end**_ me."

"Then we'll make sure nothing does. 'cause Arendelle can't afford to lose you."

"… Not everyone believes that."

"Most of them do. Most of them love you. It's just the stupid, old superstitious types who raise a fuss. They're loud, yeah, but there aren't that many of them." She nuzzled her sister's hair.

Elsa leaned back into the embrace. "They're devising another test."

"… Who?"

"The Italians. Cardinal Isperizza, their High Inquisitor, or whatever he is, said that the first two tests weren't sufficient."

"I think they just want to keep trying until they come up with something they can blame you for."

The Queen considered that. "Maybe. It's hard to tell." She was silent for a time. "This is a case of guilty until proven innocent, and it's really hard to prove the _absence_ of ill intent. I recited their catechism. I handled their holy relics. They already don't like me because we're Lutheran." She sighed. "Perhaps they are simply looking for an excuse to pronounce me anathema."

That, as Anna had learned, could have serious political consequences. The other primarily Roman Catholic nations would be forbidden from trading with Arendelle – not that such a pronouncement would stop some of them. But Spain had already cut off all trade and diplomatic ties. Their representative at Elsa's coronation had fled Arendelle that night, traveling south along the coast as fast as the artificial winter would allow, and not slowing until he was many leagues beyond the edges of the storm. As soon as he had returned to Madrid and made his report, Queen Isabella closed down Arendelle's small trading house and deported the staff. Elsa feared they were preparing to declare war, though her Council assured her that wasn't so.

On the other hand, two of the major Roman Catholic nations, France and Ireland, had been eager to set up permanent embassies in Arendelle, as had King Gregor of the Southern Isles. His abject mortification over Hans's actions had translated into one of the best trade deals Arendelle had received in decades. Hardly a week went by without one or two of his older brothers stopping by to reassure Elsa that Hans was the drastic exception to the rule. (The second oldest brother, Ferdinand, had visited about every three weeks. Anna was positive he was going to sue for Elsa's hand any time now.)

Elsa sighed again, turned in her chair, and wrapped her arms around Anna. "That's actually not even the main problem, either. Weselton's piracy is getting worse by the day."

The Princess didn't really have anything constructive to say about that, either. She knew as well as Elsa that their small navy – nine ships, none of which carried more than sixteen guns – was completely outclassed by just the _scout_ ships of Weselton's massive fleet.

Elsa could keep them out of the fjord, and had on two occasions, creating a field of icebergs that turned their big warships into floating targets. The first time, she had made the ice the moment the lookout identified them, and they had sailed around for a bit beyond the scattering of floes, and then left. The second time the force was a good bit larger (some twenty ships). Elsa had waited until they were half a league from the fjord, and then crafted the bergs to come up under the ships. Four of them were wrecked and sunk, and four more trapped up on the ice. The remainder rescued the sailors from the lost ships and made their careful way out of the ice field and away to the west with as much sail as they could hang. The trapped ships had been quite the prize, every one boasting seventy-four guns, but none of them was really sea-worthy after being hoisted up on the ice. It would be many more weeks of repairs before they would be ready to supplement Arendelle's navy.

Meanwhile, Weselton had retaliated by attacking Arendelle's trading ships. At first they simply stopped the ships, boarded them, and made off with whatever valuables they could find. Then one ship went missing in calm seas. Then one was found adrift … with all hands hanging from the yardarms. None of the cargo had been touched. That message was crystal clear.

King Gregor had come to her aid then. His navy, while not as formidable as Weselton's, had ships that were big enough and fast enough to successfully patrol the shipping lanes. This usually kept the traders from being preyed upon. But not always. The result was the current economic crisis. Every warehouse at the docks was full. Some of the goods were perishable. Elsa had turned two of the buildings into deep-freezes, to prevent spoilage … but that could only help so far. And if no one came to buy the wares …

"If only Weselton didn't have such a huge … huge _presence_ on the sea! Avalon and Denmark and France – and the Southern Isles now – aren't afraid of them, but most other nations are, and I can't blame them. The ocean is vast. So many attacks can happen where no one else would ever know."

Anna had heard this same lament just the day before. She had no better answers now. There was no law in international waters. Who would enforce it?

A muted knock sounded at the study door. Elsa raised her head and released her sister, straightening her dress and hair. "Come in."

The man who entered, Lieutenant Olaf Dahl, was one of Admiral Naismith's aides. He handed Elsa a letter, bowed, and went to stand by the door.

She eyed the thing with trepidation, noting the Admiral's seal, but then drew a long breath, opened it, and read.

 _Your Majesty,_

 _There has been a late development in our ongoing series of skirmishes on the borders. We have captured two of the brigands. Their band was caught just as they were about to set fire to a farm. Of the fifteen attackers, these two alone survive, and one will not last the night. We lost one soldier killed, and suffered three wounded, but none seriously._

 _Having vigorously questioned the one man left, I have discovered that it is as you had feared. They are mercenaries, hired by Weselton to harass our outlying lands. They all had Weselton's coin on their persons when captured._

 _My Queen, as you know, this is cause to declare war. Weselton has begun the fight without that declaration, which any civilized kingdom would view as piracy. Those neighboring nations who are aware of our plight are disgusted by his lack of honor, but there is little they can do. Nor can we. Arendelle does not have the resources to mount any sort of campaign against Weselton, nor will we be able to in the near future. We might manage to put together a coalition force with France and the Southern Isles, but it would take time, and there is no guarantee such an alliance would be effective._

 _I have sent spies into Weselton, but so far they have given me very little to work with. I did get one bit of odd news, but I would rather discuss it with you in person._

 _We shall continue in our efforts to extract information from the captured rogue. Until then, I remain,_

 _Your Humble Servant,_

 _Mikael Naismith_

Elsa dropped the letter to her desk and dropped her head into her hands. Anna scooped up the letter and read it, her frown giving way to a look of near-panic. When she got to the end, she crumpled it in one hand and knelt by her sister. "Elsa?"

"If we only … if we so much as had a target. But he's using these … these hit-and-run tactics … blockades … privateers … I can't ask the merchants to go out sailing when there is an even chance they may be murdered!"

"Elsa … do you remember what we talked about back in March, after their second armada tried to invade?"

"No."

"Sure you do! I mentioned how you could-"

"I mean, No, that isn't going to happen."

Anna leaned her head against her sister's arm. "Do you recall what Bishop Torvik said about your powers?"

"He's wrong."

"He's not. Elsa, it's not a curse. It's a gift. You were given this gift for a reason. I think – and the Bishop backs me up on this – that God intended for you to use them in the defense of Arendelle."

"And I did. In defense. _Defense_ , Anna, not as some sort of … juggernaut, some unstoppable … no. Just … no. I'm not a war machine."

"You're the Queen of Arendelle. Protector of the Dominion."

"Yes. Protector of the Dominion, not murderer of a bunch of sailors who are barely old enough to shave."

Anna bit her lip. After the second incident, where four of the ships sank, not all the sailors were rescued. Two of them washed up on Arendelle's shore. Neither was as old as Anna. That happenstance had shaken the Queen to her core, and she had been exceedingly circumspect in the use of her powers ever since.

Lieutenant Dahl cleared his throat. "Any message back for the Admiral, Mum?"

"Yes. Tell him I will meet with him here at ten in the morning."

"Very good, Your Majesty." He bowed again and left.

Elsa sat silently for most of a minute, absently stroking Anna's hair. Finally she said, "I believe I'll turn in for the night."

"Already? It's not even eight-thirty yet!"

"And I have an early start tomorrow. And, as I think I said once already, I'm exhausted."

"… Okay. I'll send for Teela."

"Thank you." She considered something for a moment, then nodded and said, "Could you have her run me a bath?"

Anna brightened at that. "Sure! That sounds great. For that matter, I might join you."

"Perfect. You can wash my hair."

"Only if you wash mine."

Covering a yawn, Elsa muttered, "Deal."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note:_**

 ** _So. Things aren't looking good. There's power ... and then there is powerful position. There is ability ... and then there is ruthless cunning. What's that saying? Age and treachery will always win over youth and talent? Let's hope that isn't so._**


	5. Ceremony

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 4: Ceremony**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Village, 12 May 1841, 9:10am_

The position of "Official Ice Master and Deliverer" was _technically_ a knighthood, so Kristoff, _technically_ , would be addressed as Sir Bjorgman … except that honorific gave him a rash. He'd had to remind the stable-hand twice so far, "It's just Kristoff."

The kid bobbed his head. "Yessir."

Giving up with a sigh, he finished checking out Sven's harness and then climbed up in his sled. Anna ambled over and leaned up against the side. "Any idea how long this'll take?"

"Probably just overnight. I can't imagine the ceremony taking any longer than that. All I know for sure is that it starts at sunset." _And_ , he reflected, _given the robust troll physiology, it will probably involve copious quantities of extraordinarily hard liquor._

Anna tried not to pout. Really. No, really! She _understood_ (somewhat) that Kristoff had obligations that didn't involve her. But just because she understood it didn't mean she had to like it. She was anxious to change that, too, but Elsa had insisted on a minimum of one year for their engagement. Not for the first time did she conclude that if _Elsa_ were the one in love, _she_ wouldn't wait that long.

The ceremony in question was The Dance of the Three Fours, and was intended to commemorate the twelfth anniversary of Kristoff's receipt of his first fire crystal. He'd never heard of such a thing until the previous evening when he'd come back to his room to discover a large rock in the middle of the floor. Suspecting it might be from the trolls (and might be a prank) he had approached it carefully, inspected it thoroughly, and finally touched it gingerly. With a low pop, it had opened to reveal an invitation to the ceremony, worded in such a way as to indicate that attendance was not optional.

Taking the reins in his hand, he leaned over and gave Anna a long, gentle kiss … then another … then leaned his forehead against hers. "I won't stay any longer than I have to. I did just pay 'em a visit not six weeks ago, so they don't have an excuse to keep me there."

Her answering smirk preceded another quick peck on his lips. "I'll hold you to that." Then she stepped back so he could leave.

This time of year the journey to the Valley of Living Rock was free of snow until maybe a quarter-league before getting to the first steam vent. Still, it was a light enough cover that he didn't have to take the wheels off. He and Sven pulled to a stop, and he hopped down.

No sooner had his feet touched the ground than small boulders began rolling in his direction. The next few hours were loud, chaotic, brash, and entirely enjoyable.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _11:28pm_

He wasn't drunk. Not, ah, not completely. Just … happy.

Yeah. Really happy.

And practically everything that anyone said was simply hilarious.

Bulda strolled up to him and handed him another cup. He grinned until his cheeks hurt. "Thanks, Mom!"

"Drink up now."

If he'd had a little more on the ball at the time, he might have wondered at that. She'd been advising him to "slow down" and "wait a bit before your next one" and "get some water first" all night. And now she was _encouraging_ him? Wasn't that just wonderful? "You're wunnerful, Mom!"

"I know, I know. Now … drink."

Happily he upended the mug and took three long swallows …

It was close to five minutes before he stopped coughing. Now utterly sober, her stared at Bulda and said, "What the cold, sliding Hell was in that cup?!"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Looking at the arrangement of her digits, he grimaced and said, "No need to get ugly about it."

"You started it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know good and well that you can't even keep up with a _little_ troll, and there you were going mug for mug with Trynn and Krope. At your own ceremony!"

He stopped to consider her words, then hung his head and mumbled, "Sorry."

"You do realize that you have to be sober for the Enlightening."

"Yes … I do." Grandpabbie had explained that. He'd explained a lot of things. Some of them, Kristoff even remembered now … and panicked. "My cloak! I haven't woven my cloak yet, and …" He squinted at the sky for a moment. "Crap! It's not long till midnight! Where's some snakegrass, where's …"

"Hush." Bulda reached over and pulled the cloak in question from behind a rock. "Here. I put one together for you."

Kristoff grabbed it, then leaned down and gave his adoptive mother a fierce hug. "You're the best."

"Naturally. Now go on." She made shooing motions. "Off with you. Can't be late."

The ceremony was held in a small grotto halfway up the side of the mountain to the east of the trolls' home. There was standing. There was kneeling. There was chanting. It wasn't exactly 'if you've seen one induction ceremony, you've seen 'em all', but Kristoff wasn't handed any real surprises.

At ten minutes to midnight, he donned his grass cape and took his place, kneeling in the center of the circle.

At four minutes to midnight, Grandpabbie raised his arms. Silence reigned for almost two minutes.

"It is a solemn thing," he finally said, "a weighty thing, a righteous thing that Kristoff has done, and at times the charge has been a heavy burden. For three fours of years he has worn his crystals. Always they have been there to remind him. Always has he carefully guarded them. He has kept his path clean, his spirit pure, and his actions noble."

Kristoff had his doubts about that part, but kept his opinions to himself.

"Tonight, he receives his Crystal of Joining."

 _Wait, what? Crystal of Joining? But I thought only_ _ **real**_ _trolls …_

Pabbie flashed him a very brief smile. "Sometimes," he whispered, "we make an exception."

The old troll placed his hands together and then drew them slowly apart, revealing a crystal a bit shorter and a bit thicker than the ones Kristoff already wore. He stood stone still as Pabbie held it against his chest, quietly intoning the Geas of Attainment. When he finished and stepped back, the five crystals hanging from the leather cord were all connected at the bottom to the new one, which lay horizontally.

"Rise now, Kristoff. Rise and join your brothers and sisters."

But as the human was rising to his feet, a tremor went through the ground. Several trolls swayed with it, others looking around in shock.

Now, it wasn't as if earthquakes were unknown in the region. Far from it. But part of the basic nature of the troll is an intimate connection with the local geological formations. If an earthquake was building, they would know. They _always_ know, even the young ones.

This time, _none_ of them knew, and that fact all but petrified them. Had they known there would be tremors, they would have chosen a different spot for the ceremony because …

The ground shook again, harder, longer, and this time the mountainside above them groaned and crackled, spit and … released.

Hundreds of tons of stone began rolling and sliding down the steep grade, some of the boulders running into obstacles and stopping, some hitting bigger rocky outcroppings, and a few of those went airborne.

It was pure instinct. Kristoff didn't even think about it. Perhaps somewhere in his subconscious something said, "That's a child. Protect it." He was leaping before he had a chance to evaluate the situation. The flying chunk of rock, probably at least a ton, was falling straight at a small troll girl. As he found his feet in front of her, as the boulder descended and hit, that same little voice in the bottom of his mind sighed and said, _"I'm really sorry, Anna. We would have been wonderful together."_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Weselton, the Ducal Manor, midnight_

For most of his life, it took Brian Clade several minutes to make the transition from sleep to waking. Thoughts and dreams would jumble together, reality would slowly, haltingly reassemble itself, and eventually he would know where and who he was, what was his world and what he left in dreamland.

Tonight he went from a deep but troubled sleep to awake and alert in less than a second.

Something changed. Something big. Something … concerning. Something that might threaten his plans.

He rang his bell-pull and a servant appeared immediately, light spilling in from a gaslight in the hall. If the young man was surprised to find the Duke awake, he hid it well. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"We are under attack."

Briefly his eyebrows rose, but he recomposed himself. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace? Attack from where?"

"I don't know yet. Wake the Colonel. Assemble the Marines." He swung his legs off the bed and strode to his dressing room.

That was another thing. This young fellow (his name was Bert) had been in the Duke's service for nearly five years. He knew how the old man suffered from arthritis in his knee, and that it would take several minutes of bending and massaging – and a small dose of laudanum – before he could walk comfortably. He'd been that way for years … up until last fall. That was just one of many, many changes that left Bert feeling a bit disturbed in the Duke's presence.

Nevertheless, he had his orders, although he was pretty sure that if they _were_ under attack, he would have heard _something_. He trotted off to wake the man who directed one of the most efficient, well-armed military forces on the planet. Bert hoped he wouldn't come awake in a foul mood.

Brian Clade, meanwhile, was nearly finished dressing, his movements uncannily quick and accurate. He finished off his uniform, brushing away a bit of imaginary dust. One had to look the part, after all.

His lips compressing to a thin line under his mustache, he headed for the meeting room where he planned all his battles. Maybe that buffoon of a Colonel wouldn't spend too much time muddying the waters this time. He had a distressing aversion to collateral damage. The Duke felt confident he could fix that over time, though.

As he moved down the hall, he stopped and stared at his reflection in a full-length mirror, just to make sure. His eyes flashed yellow for less than a second before he centered himself and allowed them to return to their normal blue.

 _Control it. Don't let it control you._

Taking a cleansing breath, he made his way toward his meeting.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note:_**

 ** _Please note that if a story contains actual, real Major Character Death, it will say so in the summary._**


	6. Life in Interesting Times

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 5: Life in Interesting Times**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Valley of the Living Rock, 13 May 1841, just before daybreak_

"I wouldn't have expected you to be awake this early."

The voice startled Kristoff out of his musing. He stood and turned. "Morning, Pabbie."

The old troll carefully studied the human's face. "Ah. I see. You haven't slept."

"No! I did. I …" Rubbing the back of his neck, Kristoff dropped his gaze. "I … there were … I had some weird dreams."

"Are you quite sure they were dreams?"

A good quarter minute passed before he answered, very softly, "They had to be."

Grandpabbie quickly suppressed a grin. "Indeed, now?"

Scattered images flitted through the young man's mind.  
 _… The troll girl  
… The falling boulder  
… Bracing for an impact that he knew would crush him to unrecognizable mush  
… The feel of the rough stone against his hands  
… Detecting the weight for just an instant  
… Pushing back and seeing the great stone veer to the side  
… Watching in dumb shock as what should have been the instrument of his death simply rolled away down the mountainside  
… Picking up the child and running to the other trolls  
… Feeling the earthquake subside. Feeling it in his bones_  
Kristoff nodded decisively. "Dreams. Yeah. Just weird dreams."

The ancient troll had not missed the fact that the earthquake seemed to trigger at the exact moment of the ceremony's climax. He had, therefore, kept a close eye on Kristoff, had noted when the human's fire crystals began to glow, had raised his staff to cast a spell at the speeding boulder, knowing already that he had no time …

His shock hadn't been quite as complete as Kristoff's when the boy caught the massive rock and tossed it aside like a dry stick. Quickly putting this fact together with several visions he'd had lately gave him quite a lot to think about. This could be the answer …

Pabbie patted his arm. "I think Sven will already be awake. You should get started back to Arendelle soon. Your love pines for you."

Kristoff snorted. "Ha. She'll miss me whenever she wakes up. If I leave now, I'll get there before that happens."

Chuckling at his comment, Pabbie could only nod. "You speak truth. Come have some breakfast first."

"Sounds good."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 15 May 1841, 10:12am_

The old man pounded his fist on the polished hardwood. "Weselton has crossed the line!"

"Yes, Sir Orvast, I know," Elsa replied, holding back an exasperated sigh. "We all understand that part. Now tell me what we can do about it."

Admiral Naismith laid a hand on Orvast's shoulder. "Nikolas …"

"No!" He shrugged off the hand. "It wasn't enough that they cheated us for years in trade. Then the slimy little bastard comes here himself and tries to kill our Queen? Then, when she was gracious and merciful enough to simply banish him … now he mounts an undeclared war?"

"Perhaps," she suggested, "if we offered to renegotiate the trade-"

"Drivel. No, he's had his eye on Arendelle for half his worthless life." Sir Orvast was standing now, and pacing. "Stinking blackguard. I'd trade _my_ life for a chance to wring his scrawny neck."

Mikael exchanged a quick glance with Doran Larson, the new Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the youngest man on the Council at thirty-two. Doran gave his head an almost imperceptible shake, and Mikael suppressed a grimace. _No more news out of Weselton in the last week. That probably means our spies have been discovered._ He cleared his throat. "The Southern Isles have two warships in the fjord waiting to escort our trade fleet out of the danger zone. That will alleviate one of the short-term problems. Weselton may be a snake, but he's not stupid. King Gregor could mount a successful response, and besides, he has a lot of allies."

"So do we!"

Doran stated, "Sir Orvast … we have trading partners. We have non-aggression treaties – though unfortunately not with Weselton – but the only nations we can count as _military_ allies at this moment are Sweden, Ireland, and most recently the Southern Isles. France might sign on. We're working on it. But I'm sure none of them would wish to go to war with Weselton, for reasons both military and economic." He flicked a quick glance Elsa's way, fighting down a blush. "Ireland's ambassador, who is quite the pugilist as I'm sure you all know, has wondered aloud whether our Queen shouldn't take a hand in the conflict personally." At Elsa's sudden panicked expression, he quickly added, "I told him that was not possible due to a number of circumstances. I will probably have to repeat myself on that topic several times."

Anna, who sat to Elsa's right, caught every nuance of Doran's interaction with the Queen, and smiled to herself. She'd suspected for weeks that he harbored feelings of more than just loyalty for Elsa. _That_ , she considered silently, _might just need a little encouragement._

A soft knock on the door preceded one of the Guard stepping in. "Begging your grace, this just came for the Admiral." He held up a sealed letter, and Mikael motioned him in. The man handed it over, bowed and left. Mikael tore it open and scanned it, his face growing dark.

Elsa said, "It must be important, or the messenger wouldn't have interrupted our meeting."

"Our patrol on the northern border with Norway encountered another group of brigands yesterday; a large party, some thirty men, and all carrying Weselton's silver."

There was murmuring around the table. Elsa's raised eyebrow suggested he continue.

"The brigands were killed but for three captured … but not before they had burned a farm and killed the family there."

Anna reached for her sister's hand and gripped it. Elsa felt faint. Her father and grandfather had skillfully steered Arendelle around all the wars in the last half-century … and she had _**caused**_ one within days of her coronation. Dropping her face into her free hand, she muttered, "Maybe I should just abdicate. Take away his reason for-"

"No!" This shout came simultaneously from better than half her Council, and the rest were shaking their heads. Doran said, "He is merely using that as an excuse. He found that he couldn't simply intimidate you into giving him what he wants. Losing eight ships drove that point home. So he's been more subtle."

"You call killing families and burning farms _subtle!?_ "

He made soothing motions. "No. But it is _more_ subtle than a direct declaration of war. I believe that he is now committed to taking over Arendelle, and he'll do it by way of economics, through Suits for Peace or some other treaty-based means. He intends to wear us down."

Anna said, "We should just ask him."

The rest of them craned their heads around at her. Doran asked, "Meaning?"

"Well … he's been pick-pick-picking at us, but doing it on the sly. We can't prove anything. Well, not much, and nothing in recent months. Yeah, the mercenaries _look_ like Weselton hired them, but they aren't real-live-actual Weselton troops, and the Duke could simply deny it. His word against theirs. My point is that it feels more like he's trying to back us into a corner so he can make his demands when we're not in a position to do anything about it." She gestured at Mikael. "You've got spies there, right?"

"… Possibly."

"But you said-"

"I _had_ some spies there, but they went silent days ago."

"… Oh. So, they might've been found out?"

"Probably."

"Wouldn't the Duke have said something?"

"That's one point we haven't figured out yet. If he caught our spies, he should be declaring so, to gain support for his 'cause', such as it is. But he hasn't."

"So we still don't know what he wants. That's why we ought to ask."

Mikael sat back, stroking his goatee in thought. "A diplomatic delegation."

Elsa gave her sister a look of approval. "It certainly couldn't hurt."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _7:45pm_

Setting her glass of wine down, Anna insisted, "All I'm saying is, the more you practice, the better your control is going to be."

"I do practice! Don't I put out a skating rink every Saturday?"

"Yep. You sure do. And you're really good at it. It gets more gorgeous every week." Anna leaned forward and poked the air with her fork. "And the second time you made icebergs … wasn't it easier? They came up right where you wanted them to, right?"

"… Can we not talk about that?"

"Oh, for … Elsa. Look. Let's say that, oh, that your powers wouldn't reach that far."

"But I covered the whole-"

"Tsut-tsut-tsut! Just for the sake of argument, okay? Just pretend that you can only make ice out to maybe five hundred paces."

"Very well. So what?"

"Then you wouldn't have been able to stop those ships until they got within cannonade distance of Arendelle. Elsa …" she leaned even closer and took her sister's hand. "… think about all the lives you _saved_."

"Yes, I know, Anna. Arendelle didn't lose a man. That's not the point."

"Oh, but it is. What do you think Admiral Naismith would have done if Weselton started bombing Arendelle?"

"He would have fired back, of course."

"Right. He would. Now, tell me," she went on, giving Elsa's hand a squeeze, "How many of Weselton's sailors would have died in that battle?"

Her blue eyes growing wide, Elsa took a breath to speak, but stopped herself. She tried coming at the question from a couple of other directions, but it all came back down to one thing. She slumped a little. "A lot of them."

"Correct. And how many actually did die?"

"… Two."

"And that's most likely because Weselton – as you know because you were there the same time I was when Mikky was talking about it – doesn't teach its sailors to swim. A _lot_ of them can't swim. And whose fault is that? Yours?"

"… No."

"Right again. So, let's recap." She ticked off the points on her fingers. "Weselton started the fight. Weselton sent their warships here. Weselton used sailors who can't swim. Weselton didn't equip their ships with lifeboats or life buoys. Did I miss anything?"

Elsa was thinking hard.

"Now, the _real_ question is: How many lives did you _save_ among Weselton's fleet? If you figure it takes somewhere between four and six hundred men to run one, and add in the fact that our gunners are really good … you might have saved the lives of a thousand men by keeping the battle from happening in the first place." She sat back with a satisfied smile. "I think their families would likely bless you for that. I already know all of Arendelle does."

The Queen threw up her hands. "All right. You got me. It was the right thing to do, and I'm sorry those two boys died, but you're right. Okay? Allowing the ships in close would have been a thousand times worse."

"And why did that battle not take place?"

"Because … because I … stopped it."

Anna pushed her chair back and rose, came around the table, and knelt beside Elsa, pulling her into a hug. "You are a wonderful, sweet, kind, loving, beautiful person. I am not going to allow you to believe the lie that you aren't, especially if _you_ are the one lying."

Elsa sniffled a few times, wrapping them closer. "Don't know what I ever did to deserve-"

"Hush. That's my line."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Weselton, the Ducal Manor, 18 May 1841, 11:50pm_

The original, westernmost section having been built back when sally-doors weren't optional, there were quite a few dank, dark, secret spots where few went and fewer had any business. It was in one of these that the Duke met with his spy.

"Is that _precisely_ how you overheard it?"

"Aye, Your Grace, 'at's just 'ow she said it. She's no mind to be a war machine, an' she won' be used as such."

"She certainly didn't possess that frame of mind when she sank a third of my battle group."

"It's them two boys, Y' Grace."

The Duke blinked at him. "What boys would those be?"

"Two o' yer sailors. They drownded, so they did, an' washed up on shore. Queen was right tore up about it. Now she's 'fraid t' use 'er magic, 'fraid she'll off summ'n else."

"Truly. That is most interesting news." If the Winter Witch really was hesitant about using her power … yes. That opened up a few new possibilities.

"So is that worth th' coin?"

"What? Oh. Of course." He pulled a small cloth bag from a pocket, weighed it in his palm. "I do have a question, though."

"Aye?"

"Why did you come here yourself, rather than sending a message as you've done thrice before?"

"Uh … as t' that … I was 'fraid they'd made me."

"Really."

"There was some talk. I overheard th' chatelaine goin' on about huntin' down spies in th' castle an' th' village, an' how th' Guard was-"

"So you'll not be going back there?"

"… Don' think it'd be safe, Y' Grace."

"I see. Well. That is … unfortunate." He held out his empty hand. "Thank you for your service. It has been valuable."

Eyeing the bag in the Duke's other hand, he went ahead and shook hands. "Y'r welcome …" A look of shock and horror passed over his face. He tried to jerk his hand away, but before he could, his skin erupted in flames. His agonized scream was quickly cut off as the violent fire consumed him, blackening the near walls with the heat.

The fine ash which was all that was left of the man floated slowly to the floor. Turning and walking back up the stairs, the Duke mumbled, "A pity that. Now I have to find a new spy."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note:_**

 ** _Well. That was ... unsettling. Any thoughts on what just happened?_**

 ** _Reviews = Love!_**


	7. Undetected

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 6: Undetected**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 25 May 1841, 9:00am_

With the sun at her back, and standing on one of the higher balconies, Elsa had an excellent view of the Italian ship as it made its way down the fjord. Anna, standing beside her, muttered, "Good riddance."

"Amen."

"I'm glad you finally just told them to stuff it."

"They were … being unreasonable."

"They were unreasonable before they even got here!"

Elsa let slip a smirk. "Can't argue with that."

"Maybe we've seen the last of them?"

"One can only hope. They weren't happy. But they couldn't devise a 'test' I couldn't pass, so unless they want to just out-and-out _**lie**_ to the Pope …"

"I wouldn't put it past that High Inquisitor guy. He's scum."

"Of the Earth."

Anna giggled. She turned to her sister, pulled her into a gentle hug, and then slid her hands down Elsa's arms and twined their fingers together. "Hey."

"Yes?"

"You need a break."

"From what?"

Rolling her eyes, Anna replied, "From Queening. From all this stress."

"Anna, I can't just …"

"Yeah, you can. Okay, look. With King Gregor's help, trade is … better. Actually, a lot better."

"One shipment does not …"

"I know! But it went off without a hitch, right? We emptied two warehouses, right?"

"… Yes."

"We haven't heard any more from that rabble Weselton hired, either. I think, if there even _**are**_ any of 'em left, they heard about the forty-five we killed and decided they couldn't spend their silver if they were dead."

"Possibly."

"Highly likely."

"You are, no doubt, the optimist of the family."

"Well, _you_ didn't want the job."

Elsa stifled a giggle. "I'll have to admit to feeling a bit thin around the edges."

"I'd have used 'bedraggled'."

"Oh, now it's insults?"

"Not an insult if it's the truth. Elsa … you can't run the kingdom if you're about to faint all the time. You need a mental-health day. A recharge. And a good, solid meal or three wouldn't hurt you, either."

 _Sigh._ "What did you have in mind?"

"I think we ought to visit your ice palace."

That made Elsa stop and think. She weighed the options for half a minute, then shook her head. "Maybe later, when I have more time."

" _Aaauuugh!"_ Anna threw her hands up. "You're impossible! When are you gonna have this 'more time' of which you speak? If not now, when?"

"It isn't that I don't want to go. I do. But I want to be able to stay there for … well, a few days."

"… Oh. Okay. Because …?"

"I have some repairs to do. I did leave it in shabby condition. And I want to get to know Marshmallow. He stayed outside between the time you, um … left … and when Hans got there."

Anna's nose wrinkled at the ex-Prince's name. " _Really_ hate that guy."

"Mm-hmm. But, back to your proposal … what about the Nissefoss?"

"… Hmmmmm …"

"There's a gazebo there already. And I've always loved waterfalls." _Even when I was afraid I'd freeze them._ "It's less than an hour and a half by carriage. We could bring lunch."

Her eyes lighting up, Anna asked, "Can I bring Kristoff, too?"

Elsa cocked her head to the side, giving her sister her best sardonic look. "I don't know. Can you?"

"Geez! _**May**_ I bring Kristoff?"

"Of course."

"Sweet! Can we go today?"

The Queen considered that question for a bit, then grimaced and shook her head. "No. I'm meeting with the French Ambassador at one this afternoon, and I'd really like more time than that." Taking Anna's hands, she countered, "How about day after tomorrow?"

"Perfect!" She suppressed her bubbling SQUEEEE, not wanting to startle Elsa. "I'll get everything ready. You don't worry about a thing!"

"Trust me, I'll stay out of your way. I'd rather not make the trip with any broken bones."

"Very ha." Anna stuck her tongue out. "Just you wait. This'll be awesome."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Village, 26 May 1841, 1:00pm_

Doran Larsen had an office in the palace, as did every other member of the Council, but he was more comfortable working from his house. On this particular day, at any rate. That state of affairs was subject to rapid change, given his rather intense infatuation with the Queen.

Some days he used every excuse he could drum up to stay in the palace, to stay as near that incredible young woman as he could. Some days … well, some days he couldn't take the realities of his situation, and he holed up in his house and sulked in self-pity. What chance did he have? None, that's what. She was a Queen. A goddess, to his way of thinking, in all the ways that mattered. She was the most insanely beautiful creature he could have imagined; she was sweet, kind, self-effacing, regal, generous; and she was his Sovereign.

And he was the thin, low-born second son of a textile merchant.

Sure, he was on her Council. He'd been First Assistant to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and now held the position himself, the old Minister having succumbed to a sudden stroke three weeks before his fifty-second birthday. There was no one else prepared to assume the mantle, so it fell to him to fill a pair of shoes that frequently felt uncomfortably large. He could rely on the information network that old Baron Hos had built, but they were loyal to the position … not to him. He could interact with reasonable grace and efficiency with those foreign dignitaries who crossed his path, but he was sure it would never come naturally, as it had with the Baron. The old man had relished his job, loved the verbal sparring matches, the intrigues surrounding foreign courts, the tweaking out of secret desires and weaknesses in his political opponents.

Doran? Not so much. Basically, he was coasting on the momentum of his predecessor, and he knew it. That knowledge terrified him.

What if Queen Elsa found out what a fraud he was? What if she dismissed him in disgrace? He had planned on many more years of what amounted to apprenticeship before he would have felt ready … if ever. Now, here he was, in over his head, and unable to ask anyone for help. The Admiral would just laugh at him. The Spymaster for the intelligence-gathering service would sneer at him. His humiliation would be complete.

That untenable situation is what led him to come up with his contingency plan.

A knock on his door pulled him out of these musings, and he shuffled over to open it. Surprise dropped his mouth open when he found a cloaked female figure on his doorstep. She pushed past him, whispering, "Come back in! I don't want anyone to see." And she pulled her hood back.

He stared in shock. To say he was confused wouldn't have scratched the surface. "Princess? What are … Why are you here?" Several images and concepts skittered through his mind, but he dismissed each as soon as it appeared. _She can't be here for_ _me_ _. She loves the ice-merchant. Surely she wouldn't be offering me a position on her staff! That would keep me closer to Elsa, which is surely a good thing. I would be there, though, when some Prince came to court her, and that would kill me. I couldn't_ _ **stand**_ _seeing that! Is she starting a conspiracy? But, wait, she loves her sister, too! How could …_ "What?

"I said, I need for you to come with us tomorrow."

"… With you … where? Wait, who?"

"You didn't hear a thing I said!"

"My deepest apologies, Your Highness. I've had a lot on my mind, and your presence was rather unexpected." He stood severely straight, hands clasped behind his back. "How may I be of service?"

"Well, for one, you can loosen up. Geez, how'd you get so stiff?"

He dropped his 'parade rest' stance and let his arms hang at his sides … then crossed them … then sort of wrung his hands together.

She giggled at him. "You remind me so much of Elsa! She's a horrible fidget, too."

With a long-suffering sigh, he re-crossed his arms. "You said something about accompanying someone somewhere."

"Yeah! Tomorrow I plan to take Elsa on a picnic. Kristoff's coming. You need to come, too."

The floor dropped out from under his feet. The entire world suddenly sounded as if it were made of rushing water. His heart swelled up and popped. "Ex … cuse me?"

"We want you to come with us. I'm getting Elsa out of the palace and away from Queening it for a while. You know, rest and relax. I think you should be there with us."

He was sure he looked like a banked fish. "… Why?"

Her sly smile sent a thousand tremors down his limbs. "Why do you think?"

"I, ah …" _swallow … swallow harder …_ "I wouldn't know." _Liar._

"Oh, please. I've seen the way you look at her. If she weren't so preoccupied, she'd see it, too."

He honestly couldn't think of anything to say. What if Elsa _did_ see how he felt? Surely … surely there was no way she'd consider … "But … I'm … nobody special."

"Yeah, so? Big deal. This is the nineteenth century. You think I'm gonna let some prissy, self-important, Continental puffball scoop her up as some sort of prize when there's already somebody close who knows her and actually cares about her? Not a chance." She bumped him with her elbow. "You in?"

"I … uh … yes. Yes, I will be … happy to join your party."

"Perfect! I'll tell Elsa you're there to help her get some background on Weselton politics. France, too."

"But … but I'm not …"

She skipped to the door, opened it, and peeked out. Glancing back, she said, "Don't tell a soul. Kristoff will come get you early in the morning." Tugging her hood back up over her riot of coppery curls, she scooted out into the street. His door didn't quite shut.

He stood there for nearly a minute, trying to process what had just happened. The Princess knew of his, um, feelings … and she approved? How was that even possible? And … a picnic? With Elsa? He had literally dreamed about such an event. Recently. In excruciating detail. And did that mean _she_ might be interested in _him_ as well? How? How – how – how – how … Wait, he needed to research … what was it she said? France? Yes, and Weselton. Complicated bunch, and he didn't really get all the nuances himself, but he …

One fact suddenly landed on him like a wild bull, and his eyes bugged. _**NO!**_ He ran to his office, scrambled up a quill and a sheet of paper, and began writing furiously.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _27 May 1841_

Elsa's initial reaction to Doran's presence in their party was to give Anna a look of extreme confusion, place her arms akimbo, and say, "You told me this was just a rest-up-from-Queening thing."

"It is!"

Holding a delicate hand out in her Councilman's direction, she cocked an eyebrow at her sister and waited.

Anna was all innocence. "What? I figured he could help you with some insider gossip from France, who you're trying to get _on board_ as a military ally, and Weselton, whose stupid _Duke_ needs to go boil his _head_. Not _business_ stuff. You know, just … casual-like."

"Casual." She turned her gaze on Doran, who immediately popped a sweat, despite the dawn's cool breeze. As soon as she'd noticed him, she re-formed her ice dress into something a lot more conservative, with a high neck and long sleeves. "Master Larsen, did you suggest this or did my sister get you involved?"

"Um … she, ah … she did bring up the possibility that you might not, ah, be averse to, um, a bit of … background information. As it were."

"I see." Swinging back around to face her sister, she said, "What's your end-game?"

"End … huh? Game? What game?" She came up and took Elsa's hands. "Look," she said with a small sigh, "I know how you think, okay? You aren't going to be able to just leave it all be for a whole day. I'll be talking and you'll be all 'mm-hmm – mm-hmm' and not paying _any_ attention because you'll be a thousand leagues away – well, okay, maybe three – going over some aspect of this idiocy the Duke has going, or trying to figure out how to secure some allies, or worrying about what Spain's gonna do next, or something. I _know_ you. You're filled right to the _brim_ with 'give-a-damn', and it's gonna _wear_ you down if you can't _set_ it down now and then."

Elsa averted her gaze, aware of the truth her sister spoke.

"So I figure this is a way you can rest and keep your head in the game at the same time. But just concentrate on one topic at a time, okay? Don't worry about six things at once. Just try to soak up what Doran knows, and limit your questions to the same stuff." She stepped in and gave Elsa a light hug. "Please? For me? I worry, you know."

"… I know." The Queen sighed and gave a small, resigned nod. "You know me too well. Okay, let's give this … _tactic_ a try."

That was an hour gone, and Elsa had quickly warmed up to the topic, once they were outside Arendelle Village. Doran provided some bits of information and a couple of statistics, then introduced the value of an alliance, and …

Elsa had gotten positively animated, and held forth on the subject of military alliances for half an hour. The conversation finally came back around to the defense of Arendelle, and ultimately Arendelle's Sovereign. "So Anna's been pestering me to use my magic on other things, to try larger formations, or see how quickly I can create various kinds of walls and such – she worries about me – so that just in case somebody manages to sneak into the castle and make it past or through half a hundred guards without waking me until they get right up to my door, I can still defend myself." She shot a look at her sister, who gave her a cheeky grin.

"It's not a bad plan, Your Majesty." The first half-hour they talked had been torture, but Elsa had finally managed to put him at what passed for ease. "Given the Duke's stance on Arendelle, it will only be a matter of time before he tries something … permanent. You _should_ be prepared for such an attack."

"And I don't have a problem with it. I like my skin un-punctured." She thought of something else and gave a small, disgusted sound. "That's very different from being a spear-head, though … and _every last ambassador_ I spoke with at the very _least_ brought it up. Many of them were quite insistent. They see me as a tool, as some kind of weapon." Letting her gaze drop to her hands in her lap, she said, after a moment, "That's just not me. Not now, and probably not ever."

Kristoff finally interjected something. "If it makes you uncomfortable, there's probably a good reason. I can understand getting really familiar with your powers, for the reasons you gave, but if you don't have a killer instinct, war _really_ isn't for you." He gave Anna a fond squeeze where she was tucked up against his side. " _This_ one, I don't know so much about. I'm staying on her good side, just in case."

She punched him.

After giving a small grunt, he grinned at her and said, "See?"

"Shut it, you."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "That's fine for you. But Elsa isn't as … _feisty_ as you are. Battle's not her thing, and she shouldn't try to _make_ it her thing. I think it would give her nightmares to think that her magic had killed a bunch of people."

The Queen nodded. "You speak deep and succinct wisdom, Sir Bjorgman. I think I'll have _you_ explain it to the next ambassador who shows up."

. . .

. . .

. . .

Eight of the Guard patrolled the woods around the falls. Four of them stayed close to the royal party … which would have been a lot easier had Anna not been there. She kept Kristoff and the soldiers going with her constant hopping from one small, clear pool to the next. Her antics made Elsa giggle, and it wasn't too long before she joined the redhead, wading contentedly in the shallow stream. Doran, who was no fan of water that wasn't either cold in a cup, or hot in a tub, declined Anna's generous invitation to "have a splash". With a relatively still pool available, Kristoff tried to teach Anna how to skip a stone, using one of the many from the streambed. She never managed to get more than one skip, but had a lot of fun anyway.

They stopped around noon to gather at the gazebo for the generous lunch they'd brought, inviting all the Guard to join them. The men took it in turns, four of them eating, then swapping out. The party lingered long over some excellent light, sweet wine after the meal.

Later, Kristoff and Anna meandered back over in the direction of the stream. She hoped that leaving Elsa alone with Doran might spark something. Her sister had been infuriatingly oblivious to the Councilor's fawning interest. _What am I going to have to do, draw her a picture?_

When they had gone a score of paces, Kristoff stopped, looking around. "Where'd the Guard go?"

"Huh?"

"Well, there are five over by the gazebo, but I don't see any … oh, crap." He moved around to her other side, then urged her back the way they had come.

A double-dozen men in rough camouflage came spilling out of the woods, leveling rifles at them.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note:_**  
 ** _Well, THAT went sour in a hurry._**  
 ** _What do you think Elsa will do? Or Anna? Or Kristoff?_**  
 ** _I'd be very interested in your opinions._**

 ** _Reviews = Love!_**


	8. Shock and Awe

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

 ** _Author's Note: Just wanted to give a shout-out and huge Thank You to all the wonderful readers who have Followed, Favorited or Reviewed (or sometimes all three). You are THE BEST! If I haven't PM'd you personally yet, I will ... because I appreciate your input and comments more than you can know._**

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 7: Shock and Awe**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Nissefoss, 28 May 1841, 2:00pm_

Kristoff had never heard gunfire before.

Elsa had only heard it faintly, through the walls, when the Queen's Rifles would practice out past the northern edge of the village. It usually made her nervous.

Anna had made it a point to sneak out once and watch them from a good bit closer. But the noise gave her a headache, and she'd returned before getting in sight of the practice range.

Doran had fired a dueling pistol a few times. It belonged to a friend. His father hadn't approved of firearms. But it was nothing _like_ as loud as these rifles.

More to the point, _none_ of them had ever been shot before.

The volley of reports was nearly deafening. The very fact of the attack was terrifying.

At the first hint of alarm, the Guard had jumped between Elsa and the attacking force, bringing their own carbines up to return fire. But the invaders had the initiative.

Something stung Kristoff across the top of his shoulder, burning like a lash. He gaped in horror as he watched Anna jerk, cry out, and fall. Just beyond her he saw Elsa crouching, her hands glowing blue as the magic swirled. Ice shot out from that side of the gazebo in a protective ring of spikes, and covered the ground out to the invaders, which should have knocked most of the previously-running men off their feet. When they didn't slip and fall, Elsa realized they must be wearing hobnail boots or something similar (and bit back a curse at their forethought). She tried a different tactic. Huge walls of ice began growing on either side of them, leaping in an arc to meet in the middle. Then the Guardsman directly in front of her fired, but in the same instant took a round through the side. Gouts of blood and tissue shot out his back, straight into Elsa's eyes. She made a choking noise and pawed at her face. Her ice walls stopped growing.

Meanwhile, Doran had jumped out of the gazebo and was walking toward the enemy as quickly as the ice would allow, waving his arms and yelling, "Stop! Listen! You don't have to do this! Just listen a minute!" Then there was another volley, and he folded over onto the ground.

Elsa, though blinded, tried to erect a sort of half-wall of ice between her Guard and the advancing force … but since she couldn't see what she was doing, it was shaky, and lumpy, and varied in height a lot. It was also just in time to stop the next volley. Then she created some snow and rubbed her eyes with it to try to clear her vision.

Kristoff didn't register any of that. He didn't really see _anything_ else after Anna fell. A red haze suffused _his_ vision. His fear for his love, and his righteous anger and his protective instincts coalesced into a deep desire to **HARM** the attackers. He had no weapon apart from a sheath knife in his belt, but that didn't mean he was entirely defenseless.

Growing up with trolls meant a great deal of time getting really, really familiar with rocks. They taught Kristoff to throw, and he had developed great accuracy with smooth stones. It was more reflex than anything else that caused him to snatch up a rock from beside the path leading to the gazebo and fling it at the enemy. The nearest ones were maybe eighty paces distant, near the limit of his range …

Or they would have been, except that as soon as the rock left his hand, it quickly accelerated to well over the speed of sound, blowing completely through one man's chest, taking the right arm off the man behind him, and traveling another hundred and eighty paces through the wood before burying itself in the side of the mountain.

The weird, crackling pop and sudden shockwave the stone made when it broke the sound barrier momentarily confused the near attackers. They'd seen two of their own fall, but …

Kristoff hadn't noticed the effects of his throw; nor had he realized that his rock had made that sound, assuming it was another gunshot. As soon as it loosed, he was scooping up another, then another, then another, not really taking in the fact that they were flicking the last few finger-widths into his hand, iron beads to a lodestone.

Some of the brigands turned their rifles his way, but he was in constant motion, jumping, and bending, and throwing. They couldn't get a good bead on him.

Kristoff didn't have that problem. His throws were uncannily accurate (read: he didn't miss), and the more he threw, the bigger the rocks and the faster they went. Fourteen invaders dropped in less than eight seconds.

The rest of them, having known in advance that ice magic would be present but not expecting anything like _this_ , turned and moved back toward the wood.

But Kristoff's anger had reached a point of no return. He didn't want them to get away … desired ardently that they NOT get away … and felt a flare of heat from his fire crystals.

The Earth trembled … jogged … shook … pitched violently … and the ground opened up under the fleeing men. Screaming, they fell … and fell … and fell …

The big blond stood there, chest heaving, staring across the battlefield, trying to understand what had just happened. The rest of them – those who had seen it – stared at him.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 29 May 1841, 12:20pm_

"Kristoff."

"Yes?! What, what?!"

Anna held up a hand and pushed him back out of her face. "You're hovering again."

Chagrined, he eased back into his chair. "Sorry."

"Hey." She patted his hand and then laced her fingers with it. "As long as I'm stuck here until His Semi-Royal Pettiness, Doctor Tyrant, is satisfied I can walk on this leg, why don't you do something for me?"

"Sure, anything!" A tiny voice in his head told him it was a vain hope to think she'd ask about something else.

"Tell me about the rocks again."

Aaannnnnd the voice was right. "… Anna. You already know as much about it as I do. All I did was pick up rocks and throw them, just the way I've been doing for better than a dozen years, just the way all the trolls I grew up with would do. I was good at it, and as often as not I'd win whatever competition they were having. But I could never throw one farther than about ninety-five paces, a hundred on a good day. I started throwing them this time because they were closer than that, and I guess I thought if I distracted some of them, the rest of the Guard could … fire back and protec-tect … and you were … you were …" His throat closed up. He squeezed her hand and bowed his head over it.

The aftermath of the attack, to say the very least, had been chaotic. Of the original group of brigands (they weren't sure how many had disappeared into the earth, but thought it was probably ten or a dozen) fourteen had received damage from one of Kristoff's rocks. Five of them had lived; of those, three had lost an arm, and one a leg below the knee. The fifth had taken a glancing blow on the head which left him in a coma. The palace physician wasn't sure if he'd survive. The other nine were found in various levels of dismemberment or perforation. Or both. It looked as if a cannonade of grapeshot had torn through them.

She pulled at his hand, pulled him over and grabbed him in a fierce hug. "I'm fine. I'll be right as rain in another couple of days. It wasn't that big a deal."

"You could have … died."

"So could you." She brushed fingertips over the bandage on his left shoulder. "That's nearly as deep a strike as I got. Four inches to the right and it would've gone through your neck."

"If anything ever happened to you …"

"It didn't. And we'll be more careful. I promise."

"I still can't figure out how they got that deep into …"

The door opened with a _creeeeeak_. The lovers looked over to see Elsa silhouetted there. She glided toward them and said, "Kristoff … would you mind?"

Knowing immediately what she meant, he nodded, disentangled himself, and stood. "Your turn. I understand." He reached down and caressed Anna's cheek, then strode out and closed the door.

Elsa sat, and looked at Anna with her non-bandaged eye. Her left eye had received a couple of tiny pieces of what the physician thought was probably her Guard's rib bone, and it was still highly irritated. She'd have to wear the patch another few days. "Dr. Odum says he thinks Samuel might pull through. Seems like the bullet missed his lung."

"Thanks be to God." She waited a few seconds to see if Elsa would add anything, then asked, "What about Doran?"

The Queen hung her head, then gave it a small shake. Anna reached for her hand.

"The doctor … said they got the third … third bullet out last night." Pausing for a couple of deep breaths, she continued, "That he made it back to the palace still breathing is something of a miracle. But two of them … went through his gut. The fever's already started." She sniffed. Sniffed again. "Why did he have to be so stupid? I thought … I gave him more credit than …"

Anna was in an even starker emotional wasteland where the subject of the Councilor was concerned. He wouldn't even have _been_ there if she hadn't insisted, and she blamed herself for his condition. Neither she nor Elsa had mentioned that. Yet.

"The other six of the Guard will all live, too. They may all make full recoveries." She didn't mention the seventh, the one member of the forest contingent who had apparently been more alert than the others and had fought back and gotten a sword through his chest. The rest, Admiral Naismith had deduced, had been taken by surprise and bludgeoned unconscious in an effort to minimize noise. It almost worked. The old soldier was shaken by how close Arendelle had come to losing its Royal family.

"I'm glad for that. But I'm sorry any of them died. I know they'll just say it's what they signed up for, but …"

"I know what you mean." Elsa sighed and leaned back in her chair, absently rubbed her bandaged eye, and then grimaced at the sudden pain. "Time to change the subject. Did Kristoff reveal any more about … his …"

"No. Honestly, Elsa, he seems just as puzzled about it as anybody. He said he's tried to do it again since then. He's used all different kinds of rocks and tried throwing them all different kinds of ways, but they just act like normal rocks. He can't explain it."

"And neither can we."

"He did mention he wanted to talk to the trolls about it."

"I think that's a grand idea. Did he say when?"

Anna forced a wry chuckle. "Likely not till I can walk again."

"Do you blame him?"

"Not at all." She gave her sister's hand a squeeze. "Elsa … do we have _any_ notion yet how those mercenaries could get _that_ far into Arendelle without us knowing _anything_ about it? I mean, there wasn't even a _whisper_ of such a force!"

"No. And it's driving Mikael over the edge. He is more than half convinced there is a turncoat among the Guard somewhere, simply because there is no other reasonable explanation. But he vetted every member himself. "

"Kristoff says they've doubled the Watch and called in all the Guard Reserve. Every citizen they could reach has been put on notice, and everyone with a weapon encouraged to carry it everywhere."

"Yes. I, ah, suggested that."

"Oh. Okay." Anna thought that a little out of character, but perilous circumstances called for unusual reactions. "I guess you and I aren't going anywhere for a while."

"No."

The Princess grew silent, pensive. The next time she blinked, a tear traced out each cheek. "Elsa … I am _so_ _ **sorry!**_ Doran's gonna die and it's all my fault and …"

"Hush. No one could have predicted what happened. I'm still finding it hard to believe, and I was there."

"You weren't the one who _insisted_ he come along." She had yet to confess to Elsa the exact reason for choosing Doran. That was a conversation she dreaded. "He'd still be alive if …"

"I said, hush. Did you plan for him to get shot?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then it's not your fault. You're too hard on yourself." She paused and gave a small, sad smile. "Which is what you say to me all too often. Isn't it?"

"… Touché."

"Have you had lunch yet?"

"They brought me some thin soup about an hour ago, but I'd just about kill for a sandwich right now. Doctor I-Know-Best-So-You-Should-Starve says I need to be on liquids for another day."

"… He's worried about you getting back and forth to the necessary room, isn't he?"

Anna nibbled her lip and nodded.

"That's not unreasonable."

"Starving anyway."

"Well … maybe I can get him to loosen that up just a little. I'll talk to …"

A brisk knock came from the door and one of Dr. Odum's assistants stepped in. "Your Majesty?"

Elsa stood. If they were willing to intrude on her time with Anna … "Yes, what is it?"

"Councilor Larsen has requested that you speak with him. And confidentially, I don't think it can be put off much longer."

Casting a sad, resigned look at her sister, the Queen of Arendelle swept gracefully but quickly out of the room.

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 ** _Comments? All feedback welcome._**


	9. Doom

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 ** _Author's Note:_**  
 ** _There was a great deal of interesting, insightful comment in the reviews and PMs I received. Let's see now how many of them were on-target ..._**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 8: Doom**

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 _Arendelle Castle, 29 May 1841, 12:55pm_

Queen, she may be, but Elsa was never one to abuse the status of her station. She knocked at the door to the infirmary and waited until someone came to answer. The assistant bowed low and said, "He's in the back room."

That just made her heart beat harder. The 'back room' … the one with no windows, so they could keep it dim, so as not to disturb the dying any more than necessary. Her step was a little slower as she made her way in.

Dr. Odum was writing at a desk. When he caught peripheral movement, he glanced up, saw Elsa, and stuck his quill back in the inkwell. Then he stood and walked around the desk. "Your Majesty."

"Doctor. I understand the Councilor wanted to speak with me."

"Yes. Quite insistent." He looked down, shook his head. "The fever is taking him quickly. I removed the bullet that had gone into his shoulder. It glanced off the underside of the collar bone and lodged under the shoulder-blade. Difficult extraction." Giving a resigned shrug, he added, "Not that it did any good. The two he took to the abdomen tore his bowels. I've applied the linseed oil poultice, but I never really gave it much hope." He turned his gaze to the door opposite and sighed. "Such a waste."

"I would speak with him, then."

"Of course. Though I don't know how lucid he will be."

"It won't … I suppose it … won't matter much longer."

"… No. It won't."

She steeled herself, took a couple of cleansing breaths, and walked in.

A small lamp on a table in the corner gave the only illumination, and it took several seconds for Elsa's eyes to adjust. She walked over and sat on the stool beside Doran's bed.

If she had to be brutally truthful, he looked like hell. He'd lost a lot of blood, battlefield first aid notwithstanding, and so was quite pale in addition to being drenched in sweat. As soon as he noticed her, he gasped, "Your Majesty!"

"Hello, Doran. I wanted … I'd like to … thank you for your bravery in the face of that attack. Though I really wish you'd … that you had stayed …"

"It was for you."

She blinked. "Um … still. You tried."

"No! No, that's not what I mean." He drew a ragged breath. "I have to tell you some things. Things you won't like. I'm dying. You need to know."

"Yes. I … I know you're dying, and …"

"No! Please listen! It's my fault!"

 _What did he say?_ "Your fault? What's your fault?"

"The attack … how they got in … my fault … mine."

"Doran … what do you mean? I don't understand."

"You … You're perfect."

"Umm …"

"You are. I've loved you for … for as long as I've known you. But you're the … Queen. I'm nobody."

"… I beg your _pardon?_ "

"I knew … had no chance to … get to know you better. Let you get to know me … that way. So when the Duke … contacted me … with his plan … his ideas … it was the only way …"

"What the devil are you talking about? The Duke? Are you referring to the Duke of _Weselton?_ "

"Right. He wanted … way into Arendelle. Said … after he took over … you wouldn't be Queen … I'd help you escape … you'd be with me … we'd be together … and you'd see, after a time …"

"You?!" She stood and took a step back. "It was _you?_ _ **You**_ were the traitor?"

"A horrible mistake. I see that now. Don't know … not sure how I didn't see it then … no way this could actually work … you have to know … about the other groups … brigands infiltrating …"

Her head was spinning. Her own Councilman? Her Minister of Foreign Affairs had turned coat and given up Arendelle to the enemy? "How could you _do_ such a thing? Don't you realize how many have _died_ because of … I don't … Doran! Please tell me you aren't serious!"

"… Sorry. All my fault." He swallowed, with some difficulty, and turned his head away. "Horrible mistake. But you had to know. Look … in my desk. There are letters. A map. Shows where the patrols go … where the paths into Arendelle would be clear. It's all there. Some … with Weselton's seal. You can use it … use the information … stop them. They're coming here."

A chill raced up her back. "Here? To the castle?" Frost formed around her feet and began spreading across the floor.

He gave a small nod. "Any day. Group we … ran into … was one of … six. Never thought … they would try to … kill you." He gasped and panted. "So stupid. Don't know … how I could be … so stupid."

She couldn't tell if the sheen on his cheek was sweat or tears.

Stepping back up beside the bed, she turned furious eyes on the shrunken man. "Councilman Larsen, if you _had_ any titles, I'd strip you of them."

"… I know. No more than I deserve."

"What you deserve is hanging! But I think your fever will cheat the noose."

"Elsa, I am so sorry!"

"You may _not_ use my name, sir. It is not yours to fling about."

"… Sorry."

"You're ' **sorry** '. Really? Handing your native land over to foreign invaders, and you're ' **sorry** '? Traitor!" She grabbed the sides of her head, spun away and stared up at the ceiling in disbelief. " _How?_ How could you _ever_ have thought any of that … that _garbage_ … to be a good idea? You're smarter than that! I _know_ you are!"

"I don't know. I look now at what I did … and all I can feel is revulsion. I don't … don't really understand it myself. I wanted … you. To be with you. And it would never happen … the way things were." He stared off at nothing. "But it wouldn't have happened … this way, either. I don't know. Don't know why I did it. But you … had to know. Protect yourself. Protect Arendelle. Sorry. So sorry."

She stormed over to the door, muttering, "Traitor. Stinking traitor. Deceitful wretch."

"Your Majesty …"

Pausing at the door, she resolutely refused to look at him. "What?"

"Can I … Will you … forgive me? I think … I can die in peace … if I know …"

Giving him one last, withering glance, she ground out, "Under no circumstances. You get to die with the knowledge of what you've done, and that many more innocent citizens will likely perish because of your treachery. Forgive that? I think not." She slammed the door behind her and shouted, "Doctor! Call your assistants!"

Not a quarter hour had passed before two of Admiral Naismith's aides were rifling the Councilman's office.

Less than ten minutes after that, Elsa was in conference with the rest of her Council … and Kristoff.

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. . .

 _Valley of the Living Rock, 30 May 1841, noon_

Most of the trolls were awake and active this time. Kristoff fielded a dozen greetings before asking, "Has anyone seen Grandpabbie today?"

"Sure, Kristoff, he took breakfast with us. I think he's in his cave."

"Thanks." He made his way to that end of the Valley.

The old troll ambled out of the low opening in the mountain's side and met Kristoff in the sunlight. He held up a stubby hand and frowned. "My boy, you have … changed."

"That's what I came to talk to you about, Grandpabbie. Something happened. Something I can't … well, I can't really even understand what happened, much less explain it. And the Queen requested that I get some guidance, and not be slow about it."

Pabbie came closer, held his staff out, and closed his eyes, mumbling. Finally, he nodded. "It is as I'd foreseen. The fire crystals have bonded with you."

"… Is that what let me throw rocks really, really fast?"

"What?"

"See, Elsa and Anna and I were on a picnic …"

"Wait. Let's go inside where you can sit."

"Okay."

Half an hour and three cups of tea later, Kristoff finally ran down. "So Elsa's been grilling me about it ever since, like I have any idea at all why it happened. And I didn't _mean_ to kill _**anybody!**_ But I was just so … and with Anna shot … I couldn't …"

"And you'd never before been responsible for anyone's death."

"… No."

"That, by itself, would be trauma enough, even if magic weren't involved."

"So it _was_ magic?"

"Without doubt. Your fire crystals imbued you with the power of the Earth."

"But I haven't been able to do it again! Only just that once."

The ancient Elemental gazed thoughtfully at Kristoff for a bit, then rose and said, "Follow me." He headed farther into the cave. When they reached the back, he inscribed a quick series of runes on the rock. The cave wall glowed briefly, then tilted away and down, forming a long staircase. He rubbed a hand over the crystal in his staff, bringing it to a warm, yellow light, and followed the stairs; Kristoff followed him.

At the bottom, they came to a void, maybe ten paces across, with four other passages leading from it. Pabbie chose one and they continued. A minute later they did it again. Then again. Then again. After a while, Kristoff thought that he should be feeling pretty dang lost … but he didn't. He knew which way they had come, and he knew how to get back. This knowledge puzzled him … and frightened him.

Little did he know.

After a good fifteen minutes of walking, they came out into a large, domed chamber, where Kristoff paused, open-mouthed. A huge, glowing crystal hung in the air near the apex, casting into sharp lines and shadows the bas-relief carvings that covered the walls. "What _**is**_ this place?"

"This is our Room of Remembrance. The important events in the history of the trolls are kept here. Come." He moved over to one long, flat section. "As you know, we trolls are charged with the protection of the Earth." He turned to Kristoff and met his gaze. "That means the Earth, not those who live on it. Our protection does not – normally – extend to the brief human kingdoms that rise and fall so quickly, although, as you know from personal experience, we sometimes make exceptions."

"You mean Anna."

"Indeed." He shook his head. "If only I had been clearer in my explanations that night. It was never my intention that Elsa be isolated. Control is not achieved by ignoring something, but through practice and patience and diligence. Had Elsa been growing in the control of her power as it grew in strength, none would now dare oppose her. But that is not where we find ourselves today. Instead, she is frightened of what she can do … deeply frightened. This is not simply a frustration and a sadness (though it certainly is those), but poses a real threat to the Earth."

"… I don't follow. Is Elsa going to bring on another eternal winter?"

"No. The threat does not come _from_ Elsa. It is directed _**at**_ her." Pabbie held an arm out toward the carvings. "Look. Look and see."

Kristoff stepped closer, squinting at the images carved into the stone. There were trolls erecting mountains (!), trolls digging deep trenches, trolls … apparently holding back the ocean somehow. Trolls …

He stopped. Stared. Took a step back. "That's a human!"

"Indeed. Erik the Bold, King of Nordheim, and named Trollfriend. Look closely."

Kristoff did, and immediately spotted what could only be fire crystals around Erik's neck. "Pabbie, I don't understand."

"There are times when trolls must allow humans to help. Sometimes the threat to the Earth is not a present one, but would be the result of a long string of events that would end in disaster for our world. We stand at one of those crossroads now."

"Is that … but I … Pabbie, why did I get fire crystals? I know that they are usually forbidden to any apart from the trolls. But Bulda said …"

"And so they are, for good reason. When Bulda found you and wanted to adopt you into our tribe, I was initially against it. But that night I had a vision. It convinced me to make you a part of the family. A series of visions over the following months told me much more. Until now, you didn't need to know because there was nothing you could do about it. That has changed; the time has now arrived for you to learn your destiny. It has been revealed to me that the connection between the trolls and royal line of Arendelle – which, as you may not know, stretches back sixteen generations to the founding of the kingdom – is a crucial link in the continued health of the Earth."

"But what does that have to do with me? I'm not a royal!"

"Consider the circumstances. Your involvement with Princess Anna resulted from a series of the most unlikely coincidences. How likely was it that the Queen would reveal her powers in front of that entire assembly? She had hid them successfully for many years. Why, then, her sudden lapse? And when the Princess decided to go after her sister, why did none of the Guard go with her? That broke protocol completely. And why did her horse throw her where it did, so that she just _happened_ to spot Oaken's place as a shelter _just_ before you arrived? She is an accomplished equestrian, and would not normally have lost her mount. And you had just minutes before witnessed the lights coming from North Mountain, so you were ready with an answer when Anna asked her question." Pabbie shook his heavy head. "No, Kristoff. You may not be a royal … but you _are_ the Left Hand of Fate."

 _ **"What?!"**_

"You have been chosen. I could feel it at your Three Fours ceremony, though I didn't know at the time that we would so soon be plunged into war."

"War? What war?" Kristoff was having trouble keeping up.

Pabbie strode to the center of the chamber, under the glowing crystal. "Hear now the Doom of the Guardian!" His own string of fire crystals began to glow in a subtle pulsing pattern that seemed to influence the cadence of what came next.

 _When Ice at last had come to dwell  
In this fair mountain land,_  
 _And Peace the tale all Men did tell  
And Justice their command,  
When homes were whole and Love flowed free  
In valley, town, and glade,  
Contentment and prosperity  
To every man and maid,_

 _Then came a Shadow 'cross the North,  
A threat both strong and bold,  
And jealousy did he call forth  
So hearts of men grew cold.  
Lies and theft and murder, too,  
The order of the day,  
Foul smoke would stain the sky once blue  
And pestilence hold sway._

 _The rivers would with poison run,  
The forests crispéd brown.  
A time of trouble sore begun,  
With Evil raining down.  
But one Man rose and stood above  
The horrors of the war.  
And through his faith and steadfast love  
Brought vict'ry evermore._

Pabbie had remained still as stone the whole time, head thrown back, eyes closed, only his mouth moving. Now, though, he took his staff and pointed it at Kristoff, holding the man's gaze like a vise.

 _The Guardian will rise to stem the flood  
With his cunning, or else with his blood._

The cave walls grew dim, the glow of the crystal faded, the ice-cutter's head swam. He collapsed to the rough rock.

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. . .

 _Weselton, Ducal Manor, 11:05pm_

Since receiving the first inkling of opposition two and a half weeks earlier, the Duke had not slept. This fact didn't bother him nearly as much as it bothered his servants. But this wasn't the only thing about the old man that they found new and strange. Not by a bow-shot.

He stood now beside a large table spread with maps, most of them of Arendelle and its surrounds. Markers here and there showed him the position of his naval squadrons, his mercenary units, his spies. Soon, he would be in position to overrun the capitol, then the Winter Witch would be in his power …

The twinge on his left forearm was small, but unmistakable. He rubbed at it a moment, then looked off to the northeast. One of his puppets had just died. Concentrating, he recalled the spell he had used to bind to himself the letter containing the geas.

 _So. That Larsen fellow._ New Minister of Foreign Affairs. That was unfortunate. He'd been an important link in the plans. True, he controlled others there, but none with anything like the clout or access that Larsen had possessed.

Eh. No matter. Nearly everything was already in place. He had only now to crank the trap shut, and the Witch would be dead before mid-summer. And there was nothing anyone in Arendelle could do to stop it.

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 ** _End Note:_**  
 ** _New information can be a real shock, as Elsa and Kristoff have discovered. But forewarned is, as the saying goes, forearmed. Let's hope that isn't just a nostrum._**

 ** _All comments welcome!_**


	10. Unsettling Information

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 ** _Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all you wonderful people who Reviewed or Favorited or sent PMs! You are too, too kind, and you gladden my heart._**

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 **Chapter 9: Unsettling Information**

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 _Arendelle Castle, 31 May 1841, 7:45am_

When Kristoff came to his senses, he was in his bed in his room in the castle. He jerked awake, practically jumping out of bed … and noticed that he was dressed only in his smallclothes. For a minute or so he stared off at nothing, trying to reassemble the recent events that had so thoroughly shocked him, then gave a small shudder and shrugged it off. A quick survey of the room showed him a tunic and breeches hanging from the valet, and some soft boots standing below them. He was dressed and out the door in a minute and a half.

The agreement had been that he would never be completely alone with Anna until they were married. Standing off away from a group and talking was one thing. The occasional kiss was even deemed reasonable. But Anna always had to be at least in sight of Lydia or Elsa if Kristoff was around. She'd occasionally chafe under the scrutiny, but was keen enough to realize the importance of maintaining chastity. She understood it … but she didn't have to like it.

Kristoff ignored that entire concept as he raced down the hall and up a flight of stairs to Anna's room, startling the guards at her door. "Johann, Albrecht." He hardly slowed as he jumped between them, nearly ripping the knob out of the wood.

"Hey!"

"I'll leave it open!" He zipped across the room to his fiancée's bed and knelt beside it. "Anna! Anna, wake up! I know you don't usually do mornings, but this is important!"

"… Whuh?" She lifted her head a finger-width and let it drop. "Wasso … 'portent?"

"I talked to the trolls."

That percolated through, and she sat up, pulling crusted hair off her tongue and trying to push the bushy mane out of her face. "… Trolls? You mean … your family?"

"Yeah. And Grandpabbie … ah, showed me some stuff. Some things I needed to know. You need to know, too. So does Elsa. But I know sometimes it takes you a while to get yourself together in the morning, so I wanted to give you enough time to brush your hair out and get dressed and whatnot. I'll go let the kitchen know we'll need some breakfast – and have Cook make you a pot of coffee – and we can meet in the small dining room so I can let you both know what I found out.

Anna caught about half of that, but what stuck out in her mind were the words 'breakfast', 'coffee' and 'Grandpabbie'. "So … you had breakfast … with Gran'pabbie … and he gave you coffee?"

His groan was epic. "Anna! Pay attention!" He pulled her to the edge of the bed, scooted the covers out of the way, and swung her around into a more-or-less sitting position. Then he took her shoulders in his big, rough hands and said, "Focus! Look at me!"

Her eyes only crossed twice before they locked with his. "Kristoff … hi."

"Listen. We're gonna have breakfast. You, me, and Elsa. And I'm gonna tell you about what happened to me yesterday."

She looked suddenly concerned, and a lot more alert. "Something … happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But I've got information you have to know, and I need for you to be awake to absorb it. Now," he said, helping her to stand and guiding her to her dressing room, "you get dressed. Then come down to the small dining room. I'll make sure Elsa's there. Okay? You got it now?"

She stretched hugely and yawned in his face, then stood straight. "Dressed. Breakfast. Elsa. Got it."

"And where?"

"The small dining room?"

"Right. I'll go wake your sister, and we'll meet in twenty minutes." Gently, he kissed her temple, drawing a low sigh, and then he was gone.

 _Well_ , ran her thoughts, _it certainly hasn't been boring with him around._ Then she turned her attention to her outfit of the day.

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. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 10:20am_

Elsa rocked back in shock. " _What_ did you say?"

"It is you, Your Majesty," replied the courier. "He wants you. His terms are that you come alone, on a ship he will send. He says if you do not agree, that within a fortnight, Arendelle will be laid waste."

She rose to her feet, panting slightly.

"No." This from the Admiral.

"But, Mikael! He-"

"No. Under _no circumstances_ will we deliver to that mad dog our Sovereign Queen, and he knows it. He cannot possibly be unaware of that. This is only a ploy against your spirit." He stood as well and walked around to her, pulling her chair out for her. She took the hint and sat.

The Minister of Tradesmen, one Alaric Sbordsen, said, "We already have nearly every citizen armed. Everyone is on the lookout for anything unusual. My Guilds are getting upwards of twenty reports a day from the borders, and so far, nothing is happening." He shifted forward to lean his arms on the table and lace his fingers together. "My opinion, for what it's worth, is that Larsen was either exaggerating, misinformed, or already hallucinating. If a force the size of what he claimed was wandering around Arendelle's hinterlands, we'd have heard something by now."

Mikael concurred. "We will keep the patrols on high alert, watch all the passes. We have signal fires ready, and horns to back them up. If anyone tries to get in, we'll know it." He glanced down at Elsa, who was studiously examining the polished wood for microscopic defects. "But one thing we will _not_ be doing is surrendering our Queen. Ever."

"Is that what you intend to tell him?" Her voice was strained, and smaller than she liked.

"I don't intend to tell the blackguard anything. I'm going to send a couple of men back there in disguise and hustle our ambassador out of Weselton, and that wretched Duke can squat in his little web of deceit and wonder if his message got through."

She didn't like it; none of it. The threat to her kingdom, she thought very real. "He has a large army."

"And they can't get to Arendelle via the sea. They'll have to land somewhere rather far away and hoof it over some of the most inhospitable mountains in this part of the world. And, besides, neither Norway nor Bergen would appreciate an incursion like that. I doubt he'd risk a war with either of them."

That did make sense. She took a deep breath. Another. This, on top of what she'd learned from Kristoff less than two hours ago, was giving her a headache. "Gentlemen … I am fresh out of ideas. What do you think would be the best thing for Arendelle at this point?"

That started a few small discussions. Her other Councilors had been shaken by Larsen's admission, and three of them had interrogated him after their emergency meeting with the Queen, though by that point the fever was affecting his mind. His office had been a wealth of information, though, and the detailed maps he'd made showing secret ways into Arendelle nearly gave the Admiral apoplectic fits. He'd already dispatched scouts to set up outposts at watch-points, places where they could observe without easily being spotted themselves.

The most curious – and most frightening – happenstance that stemmed from their examination of Larsen's study was when one of them unearthed a slim clutch of letters between the Councilman and Weselton. They contained damning evidence of the Duke's intentions, and would prove invaluable in making their case to their allies. But one letter, written on a fine vellum rather than paper, had burned the man who opened it. He dropped it with a curse, then he and the other two investigators had watched open-mouthed as it caught fire and burned with a fierce, red flame, leaving nothing but fine ash.

The only magic the people of Arendelle were familiar with was Elsa's, and to a much lesser extent, the local trolls. This was outside their experience, and none of them liked it, even a little. Why did it burn? It was already open, so Larsen must have read it, handled it. Why didn't it burn _him_? All that the investigator had managed to read before it suddenly became too hot to touch was Larsen's name, inside a complicated circular symbol with a bunch of runes around the edge. Then he threw it down and sucked on his scorched finger.

The Council had yet to propose – and Elsa to approve – a replacement for Doran Larsen. However, Mikael's Spymaster was on hand in case they needed his input. He had been made aware of all that had transpired, and had been horrified that his reports and expertise, rather than aiding the royal family, had gone instead to support Weselton's efforts to conquer them. After hearing about the burnt letter, and quizzing at some length the aide who'd touched it, he'd drawn a few conclusions. Clearing his throat, he waited until the rest of the Council was looking at him. "If I may, Admiral, Your Majesty?"

Elsa nodded for him to continue.

"I've made something of a hobby of the study of various types of magic."

That got their attention. Mikael asked, "Do you have any idea what sort of magic was involved with Larsen?"

"Possibly." He pulled out a thick book, set it on the table, and opened it to a marked page. "After hearing Johansson's description of the sigil, what he could recall of it, I dug through my personal library and unearthed this." He pushed the book down the table so they could all see the drawing. "As soon as he saw it, he nodded. He told me the letter was very similar in structure, but since he'd not recognized any of the runes, he couldn't be sure they were the same. That's not really important, though."

"Not important?" exclaimed Elsa. "How can something so vital to our-"

"Please, Your Majesty, that wasn't my point."

"… . . . … Proceed."

"The runes accompanying the master sigil would be different for each victim. In this-"

"Victim?"

"… Yes. The target of the spell, in this case, the Councilor."

She motioned for him to continue.

"This is a kind of sympathetic magic called a geas. It forms a subconscious command in the target's mind. Depending on the nature of the geas, the skill of the wizard, and the character of the victim, he may not even know he is doing something the spell commanded, even while he does it."

Elsa blanched, and abruptly stood. "Are you telling me the Duke was … was _controlling_ Doran?"

"Quite possibly. If not directly controlling him, he was probably guiding his actions in a broad scope." He shrugged. "I'd have to see the original letter, but as you discovered, only the victim can safely touch it. Well, not _safely_ , because the spell would probably kill him eventually anyway, but … well, you know what I mean."

Her mind whirling, Elsa whispered, "I condemned him."

"Beg pardon, Majesty, I didn't …"

"I condemned him," she stated clearly, though her voice shook. "I … he begged me, and I … denied him absolution for his crimes. And now you say it may not have been him at all?" That last word jumped an octave.

"Well … not entirely." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "But that doesn't relieve him of culpability. From what we read in his correspondence with Weselton, _**he**_ was the one who brought up the possibility of having the Duke steal your throne. He took his, ah, infatuation with you to, um, a rather unhealthy extreme. That didn't lead to his making very good decisions."

Mikael harrumphed, "I should say not."

Elsa began pacing and muttering to herself. After half a minute she turned back to them and leaned her fists on the table. "Gentlemen. How did Larsen get the letters?"

The Minister of the Press looked around at the others and shrugged. "Most likely through a private courier. That's a common method for transporting sensitive documents. It's how we're getting the mutual defense treaty down to Corona, and I'd assume they'll send their reply back the same way."

"Corona. Of course," she chastised herself. "How could I have forgotten about them?"

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, you have a lot on your mind."

She shook her head, then took a few deep breaths. "Sorry. Back to my other point: How do we know the Duke hasn't done something similar to others in Arendelle?"

The Spymaster was the only man in the room not troubled by that question. He raised his hand. "Actually, we can be fairly certain that there are at least two others. That was hinted at strongly in the letters."

"Who?"

"By your leave, I've already sent four of my top men to investigate. One possible victim – actually I'm pretty sure of him – is the Harbor Master."

"No!"

"We will know before the sun sets today. The other is probably one of the Guild Masters."

The Minister of Tradesmen was suddenly on his feet. "Who!?"

"Again, if my men do their jobs – and I've no doubt they shall – we will have that answer later today."

No one said anything for the space of a few breaths. Then Elsa said, "Assuming that sorts itself out as our estimable Spymaster has planned … what should be our response to Weselton's blatant acts of espionage and piracy?"

They bandied various opinions back and forth for the next hour and a half until Elsa called a break for lunch.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Weselton, Ducal Manor, 04 June 1841, 8:45pm_

The Duke – or what had at one time been the Duke – stood naked in front of a full length mirror in his dressing room, examining his skin. He'd managed to channel the excess heat away from his hands and face, but angry rashes and blisters covered the rest of him, and he'd been unable to hold down any food for three days now. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't uncomfortable. _And no word back from that wretched Witch. This is intolerable. Does_ _ **nothing**_ _provoke her?_

Carefully he dressed, then strode to the enormous window in his enormous bedroom to take in the enormous view of Weselton Harbor. Nature had truly been kind, providing this lagoon with nearly a league of thoroughly protected shoreline, and allowing Weselton to become the ship-building and goods-trading empire that it was. He had nearly a hundred and fifty top-notch warships, and twice that in the merchant marine. Or, technically, the Duke had.

The sight of all that water threatened to make him ill.

Pulling back the cuff of his right sleeve, he examined a particularly nasty blister, and sighed. Time was no longer his friend. If he couldn't make the Winter Witch come to him …

Moving to a bell-pull, he was shortly answered by a page. "Go and find the Commander General of the Navy. I would speak to him. If he is not in my office in two hours, it will be fifty lashes for you."

The page, understanding from personal experience that the Duke no longer made idle threats – nor ever forgot he'd made one – sprinted from the room.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note:_**  
 ** _So, what do you think they should do about Weselton that they haven't already done? Will this knowledge alter Elsa's thinking vis-a-vis taking a personal hand in the fighting? And what's the 'Duke' up to now?_**

 ** _All Comments Welcome!_**


	11. Setting Course

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 10: Setting Course**

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. . .

 _Arendelle, 07 June 1841, 2:25am_

Kristoff knew, the instant he came awake, that something was wrong.

Ever since apprising the royal sisters of what he'd learned from Pabbie, he had taken to sleeping clothed, just in case, so all he had to do was slip on his boots and trot to the door. He lifted a sturdy leather bag off a nearby hook and slung it around his neck, to rest comfortably against his left hip. The bag was full of hefty, round stones. That was Anna's idea.

The two guards at his door startled when he emerged, and one asked, "Is there something you need?"

"Jurg, go alert the Captain. We have intruders on the grounds."

"Again?! But just yesterday …" Jurg sighed, gave an abbreviated salute and ran off. Every member of the castle staff had been made aware that Kristoff, in addition to being the Royal Ice Master, was now bodyguard to the Queen and Princess. As such, his orders carried the same weight as the Captain of the Queen's Own Guard.

Kristoff tapped Tomas (the other man) and jerked his head down the hall. "Rear garden."

As they ran, they passed more leather bags hanging on convenient hooks near each intersecting corridor. These bags were also filled with palm-sized rocks. That had been Mikael's idea, and had been instrumental in repelling the previous assassination attempt. Running with a bag full of stones that tipped the scales at around thirty kilograms didn't encumber Kristoff at all. He'd discovered some days ago that with proper concentration, he could handle immense masses of stone with hardly any effort.

Tomas and Kristoff reached the door from the lower rear hall to the conservatory, and the former ice-merchant raised a hand, making a "shhh" motion with his other. Tomas already had his carbine cocked.

Kneeling, Kristoff placed his palm firmly on the stone floor, and concentrated. His fire crystals briefly took on a slight glow. He held that pose for two breaths, then stood and said, "They're still in the garden. We go fast and quiet."

"How many?"

"Three. Maybe four."

Tomas nodded. The palace staff were an adaptable bunch. After coming to terms with Elsa's ice magic, and seeing how beneficial it could be for the kingdom, learning to deal with the fact that Kristoff could now apparently commune with rocks was an easy step.

They crouched low, pushed the door open carefully, and crabbed quickly across to the garden door. Peeking through the glass beside the door, Kristoff had no trouble spotting the group. The sky was crystal clear and the waning gibbous moon cast sharp shadows … and glinted off the barrels of their pistols. Whispering to Tomas, Kristoff said, "They're to the right of the fountain. You take the two on the left."

"Got it."

"The door squeaks, so I'll open this window."

Tomas stood slowly and brought his carbine up into position. It was quite dark in the conservatory. He knew they wouldn't see him move.

Kristoff pulled three rocks from his bag, keeping one in his left hand. His ability to throw the rocks at hellish velocities had returned during the first assault on the castle, and had stayed with him thereafter. Lately he had gotten adept at throwing two at a time at different targets (and never missing), but he couldn't quite handle three. Yet. Smoothly he unlatched the window and swung it out, then drew his arm back. "Now." He let fly just as Tomas fired.

The triple-report badly startled the one remaining assassin, who yelled and turned to run. Tomas's second bullet took him through the thigh and he fell with a scream of pain.

A handful of seconds later, more gunfire erupted from the opposite side of the castle. Kristoff rumbled a continuous series of curses as he sprinted that way.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _9:10am_

"So their stories jibe."

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Elsa paced a short path back and forth in front of the five men kneeling on the cold floor. "The Duke's money is buying us a lot of trouble."

Kristoff stared murder at one of the captives. Using one big hand to grab the man by the throat, he pulled him up and brought their faces into very close proximity. "By my count, we've killed ninety-eight of you, and now have nearly a score in the dungeons. What kind of insanity led you to try killing the Queen again? Do you have no sense of self-preservation left _at all?_ I'd think by now …"

Elsa laid a hand on his arm. Disgustedly, Kristoff tossed the man aside. It didn't escape the Queen's notice that the assassin, a fairly large man himself, flew through the air like a doll and smacked the wall hard enough to knock him senseless; she wondered if that was another connection to the fire crystals. Kristoff, it seemed, had acquired talents beyond throwing rocks really fast.

She turned to the Lieutenant. "Kindly put them with the others." Frowning at the men, she added, "And make sure they're loaded down with enough chain to _discourage_ them from moving."

"It will be done, Majesty."

As they walked back to the residential wing, Elsa stopped and pulled Kristoff into a hug. "Thank you."

Patting her back lightly, he answered, "Well, it's my job, you know?"

"This is five times now that you've saved my life."

"Oh, you could've handled that bunch that got in by yourself. You had the corridor walled off already. When the Guard trapped 'em from the other end, it was fish-in-a-barrel."

She let him go and nibbled her lip as they resumed their walk. "Maybe."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Like I said before, you don't have that killer instinct."

"That doesn't mean … I, uh … I think you're right. It's not as if I can't help in my own defense."

He gave her a speculative look. "I think you _could_ come up with some good ways to stop bullets. Like what your ice did against that crossbow …"

"Please, can we not talk about that?"

"Just trying to make sure you don't die."

"And I appreciate it. But I … I don't …"

"Hey, hey, no worries. It's okay. That's what you've got us for."

She grew silent, and remained so until he handed her off to the Guard unit outside her room.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Bergen, port of Eide/Sand, 08 June 1841, 11:15am_

The ships weren't _obviously_ warships. They looked like traders. _Armed_ traders, to be sure, but then most traders were, to some degree. These ships, though, rather than being loaded with Wedgewood china or coffee beans or bolts of silk, were filled to the gunwales with mercenaries.

The Harbormaster had a harried look about him. Counting these five ships that had just arrived, he'd had to contend with seventeen only this morning. And he still wasn't caught up on his paperwork from the day before. He hardly had an empty berth to spare. So when the captains of the five vessels all came and presented him their paperwork simultaneously, he just sighed and stamped everything and muttered, "Leave your manifests at the port office. I'll go over 'em when I get a chance."

Franklin Stokes, the Commander General of the Weselton Navy, once apprised of this, gave his orders. Over the next six hours, in small groups of four or five or six, the disguised mercenaries left the ships, melted into the bustling activity of the docks, made their way casually through the city, and walked away steadily on the Southeastern Road. Once they got to the southern-most point of River Suldalslagen, they would gather into one force, turn south into the mountains and begin raiding villages for horses, maintaining a steadily increasing speed toward the south.

Toward Arendelle.

Franklin Stokes, before he left his cabin, stared in the mirror and gave his drab and unassuming garb a last once-over. Finally coming back up to his face, he frowned slightly, repressed the lambent yellow glow in his eyes, and firmed up his control. Then he went out to join his men.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle, Admiral Naismith's office, 18 June 1841, 10:05am_

"Damn. I was afraid it was too good to last."

Mikael looked up from his paperwork, squinting at one of his Lieutenants. "What is it?"

"Johann just dropped off the morning reports. Looks like there are more brigands. This time … well, see for yourself, sir." He rose and strode over to hand him the report.

The Admiral let slip a muttered oath. Quickly he scanned the report, then repeated his curse with a lot more vehemence. "The Queen is going to go completely sideways when she hears about this."

"Yes, sir, that thought had occurred to me, sir."

"Best we tell her sooner than not."

"My thoughts exactly, sir."

Twenty minutes later the door Guard to Elsa's study announced the Admiral. When Elsa saw his face, she knew something was up. "Mikael? What is it?"

He took one deep breath and said, "We simply don't have enough patrols to go around. Arendelle's borders are too remote, too broken up by the mountains."

The small hairs stood up along the back of her neck. "What do you mean?"

"There has been … an attack. The village of Kalaad, on the northeastern border."

Elsa racked her brain. "Didn't you _just_ have a patrol go through there?"

"We did. Three days ago. Last night one of the … ah, the, ah, oldest son of one of the families there …" He stopped, trying to find the words.

"Admiral!" She stood, gripping the edge of the desk.

"My apologies, Majesty. He had been to the capitol for trade. When he returned to Kalaad, it was to find it … destroyed."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Destroyed?"

"The, ah … most all the buildings burnt. All the inhabitants slain. All the livestock slaughtered, even to the smallest chicken." He swallowed, dreading the next part. "There was a, um, message … drawn on the wall of the one house they left standing."

The edges of her vision were getting dark. _An entire_ _ **village?!**_ _How many innocent people? Her own citizens! People who trusted her to keep them safe! What kind of a monster is this horrible Duke, to unleash such …_

She looked up, focused on the Admiral. "I'm sorry, Mikael. What … what was that last thing you said?"

"The message they left, written in blood. It said … "This is the Witch's doing".

He made to catch her as she swooned, but she caught herself first. "Mikael …"

"I'm here." He helped her sit.

"Mikael … how? How did they get in? Where? Kalaad is so remote! Why that one? Why not … why not … wait … didn't you have a _lookout post_ there?"

"Yes, Majesty. We did. The brigands got them first."

Elsa forced back tears, then frowned, firming up her resolve. "Admiral … it's time."

He knew instantly what she meant. "Your Majesty … please … we can't guarantee your safety if …"

"My safety be _**damned!**_ I am the Protector of the Realm. This is my job, Mikael! If my own people can't count on me to keep them from harm, what good am I? I may as well be dead." She held up a hand, forestalling his objections. "This needs to be done. I should have started two weeks ago. Then Kalaad would be unmolested and your men still alive." She turned to one of the Guards at the door. "Have my horse readied."

The man glanced back and forth between her and the Admiral a few times, popping a sheen of sweat.

She took a step in his direction. "Was I speaking Russian?"

"N-no, Your Majesty." He turned and nearly ran from the room.

Mikael just shook his head. _As much effort as it's taking to keep her safe here in the castle, how are we ever going to do it out in the open?_

. . .

. . .

. . .


	12. Best Laid Plans

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

I don't make a habit of this, as you know, since I feel it tends to break up the flow of the story, but this is a good spot for it, so I thought I'd take an opportunity to answer a few reviewers publicly. They have brought up some interesting questions over the last few chapters.

 _ **Ice Wraith …**_  
\- Why aren't the enemy infiltrators being detected? A few reasons, one of which has already been mentioned: Arendelle's northern and eastern frontiers are extremely rugged, and Doran had drawn them maps of the best ways to get inside.  
\- Elsa may or may not have the ability to construct a surveillance net in the form of ice-birds that would act as her eyes. She hasn't even considered that as a possibility. This story is not connected in any way to "Meltdown" or "My Glove" or "Served Cold", and Elsa here, while an effective Queen, has been a good bit more hesitant about flinging her powers around willy-nilly than she might have been, as Pabbie explained in the Room of Remembrance. But she's getting better at it, as you will see below.  
\- The driving force behind Weselton's actions will be made clear before too long. Also, Hans doesn't show up in this story except as a reference.

 _ **Shadowfax321 …  
**_ \- It isn't that the possession is wearing off, exactly, nor is it that the Commander General is being possessed, "too". I can't really explain it without giving too much away. Sorry!

 _ **Nitebreaker …  
**_ \- "going down in flames". Apt, that, more than you know.  
\- Elsa didn't get on the ship, as you have seen. She knows she has a job to do, and now she isn't going to let her advisers' worries about her safety keep her from doing it. There are several ways to go about that. We'll see if her decisions are wise.

 _ **Frenzy5150 …  
**_ \- Weselton's motivation will come to light after … well, things happen. Can't really go into it here. Elsa's Council was convinced that conquest was his goal, until that courier returned. Now they aren't positive. But you are correct in saying that he has the means and the power to target Elsa directly, if he wants her dead. … If.

 _ **CrunchDeNumbers …  
**_ \- Being the Left Hand of Fate is not necessarily a comfortable position.  
\- Indeed, your analogy of living in a world with shapeshifters is quite a good one, as we shall see.

 _ **ScarletAvenger …  
**_ \- Kristoff's new powers (and more so, his responsibilities) are going to have some pretty profound effects on him. Pabbie let him see that Erik the Bold, King of Nordheim, had been given fire crystals. Kristoff did _not_ , however, see what eventually became of him.

 _ **Grrlgeek72 …  
**_ \- You know it, girl!

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 11: Best Laid Plans**

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. . .

. . .

 _North-eastern Arendelle, near the border with Bergen, 21 June 1841, early afternoon_

Commander General Franklin Stokes of Weselton glared sourly down at the Lieutenant standing stiffly in front of his horse. "This can _ **not**_ be the best you can do."

"But … sir … this is the ford they normally use around here. We got that from the last …"

"No."

The Lieutenant swallowed. "We, ah, will have to, ah, head upstream quite a ways to find a shallower ford."

"Are your scouts already on the move, looking for one?"

"… Um, not yet?"

"Why not?"

"Yes, sir! It shall be done!" He bowed himself out.

Stokes sagged a little and dismounted. Leading his horse, he walked over to a tall tree and relaxed in its shade. It wasn't that the direct sun bothered him (it didn't … he actually preferred that) but he needed some distance from the rest of his men. Keeping the glow out of his eyes grew more difficult the more active he became, and it wouldn't do to give away his true nature at this point in the game. The other side effects were even more accelerated. Already his back was one huge rash. And this ford was out of the question; the Fourth Elemental Compact made that much quite plain. Maintaining his secret wouldn't be possible if he actually touched running water, even in a borrowed body. Memories of the two-day ocean passage intruded; he shuddered and savagely repressed them.

It would all be worth it soon. He told himself that; he had to believe it. Soon, he would be able to restore his lost honor. Soon, he would hold a major position in the Hierarchy, his just reward for delivering the Winter Witch to the Elders. He cupped his hands together, hiding his magic from the others as he conjured a small image of flame, and stared at it.

Soon, she would be his. Alliarra would be his.

His just reward.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Eastern Arendelle, near the border with Norway, 23 June 1841, shortly after sunrise_

"I wanna turn!"

"Me next, me next!"

"I ain't got a turn yet! You already went twice!"

"Did not!"

"Children?"

They all stopped at the calm, commanding tone, and gave their respect to the Queen.

"If your intention is simply to fight over it, I'll have the Sentinel ignore you and you can go back to jumping rope in your spare time."

Suddenly docile, they formed a neat line (a _short_ , neat line, as there were only six children under twelve in the small village, and everyone older was in the fields). There were a few muttered notes of "Sorry" and "Yes, Mum" and "Okay, Yer Majesty".

Fighting back a grin, Elsa nodded at her creation. Long flexible limbs swooped down and scooped up giggling children, depositing them high on the sloping back, where they pushed off and took a long slide back to the ground. She could tell that the Sentinel was nearly as thrilled with this operation as the kids were. Satisfied that tempers wouldn't get out of hand again, she turned back to the village Elders. "Well?"

Two of them were whispering to each other. The Chief watched the playing children for a quarter minute, then gave his attention to Elsa. "And this, ah, creation of yours will also offer protection?"

"It will."

"An' it won't, um … melt?"

"It's magical ice. No, it won't melt. But it will provide a bit of relief from the heat."

That was certainly true. A light, cool breeze flowed down the sides of the huge thing and spread out through the village. That was certainly a plus given that the season was a mere two days past the Summer Solstice and blazing hot (by Arendelle standards … it was just shy of thirty degrees, and cloudless). He chewed on the inside of his jaw for a bit, then shrugged. "If it can keep us safe from the brigands, that sounds like a good thing, ya?"

"That would be the goal, Elder Karl."

"What about when the little uns need t' do their chores?" He waved at the huge ice-being. "I know if I'd had aught like _that_ t' play with, I would'n a-done nothin' else."

"It _is_ sentient. It knows you're the Chief. Simply go up to it and let it know that playtime is over. It will stop."

Giving her an incredulous sidelong glance, he shrugged again and walked up to the Sentinel. "Oy, there!" He turned back to Elsa. "It got a name?"

"Þurs."

He chuckled. "Of course it is." Looking up (way up) at the being's 'head', he said, "Þurs!"

Elder Karl couldn't tell what the thing was using for eyes, but he could tell that he got its attention. It answered, in a surprisingly low, even voice, "Yes, Sir Chief?"

"Our good Lady Queen says you're here to protect us."

"That is true. I exist for that reason. She has left in me her love for the people of Arendelle in all its aspects, both gentle and fierce."

"Well and good. We welcome you to our village."

"Thank you, Sir Chief."

"Them kids, though, need t' get on home an' start their chores."

"As you wish." Its arms retracted. As soon as the last child had slid down its long back, it tucked its legs up under itself, assumed a relatively conical shape and went silent.

One of the kids toed at the ground. "Awww!"

"Shush, Jan. Don't ya got chickens t' feed?"

"Aye, Sir." The children dispersed.

Standing at attention before his Queen, Elder Karl Ossmann gave her a deep bow and asked, "Would you take breakfast with us, Yer Majesty?"

"I think that would be very pleasant." She ignored Anna's giggle as the Princess and her Consort Apparent urged their horses forward at a walk. The remainder of their rather large company had halted west of the village for their own morning meal.

Arendelle hadn't had a standing army in three generations, largely due to the diplomatic efforts of Elsa's father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. They had a Navy, though, because no sea-faring nation, dependent on trade for its lifeblood, can get along without one, pirates being a fact of life. And the fighting force of the Navy, the men who engaged in combat, were the Royal Marines.

Though relatively few in number (not quite a thousand, all told) they were disciplined, well-trained fighters who could manage to hold their own in everything from a full-blown pitched battle to small-scale infiltrations. In order to qualify to even take Marine training, the successful candidate had to demonstrate a basic level of expertise with firearms, crossbow, knife and sword, and unarmed combat. Suffice to say that no one who knew much about them would want to cross them.

Admiral Naismith had insisted that a full platoon of them, eighty strong, accompany Elsa on her journey. She thought he was being silly. He thought she was taking insanity-level chances with her life.

The system of roads in Arendelle was fairly well-maintained (the Royal Highways, at any rate), and the recent pleasant weather meant they were dry and firm. The company made good time, even given that the Captain of the Guard had half a dozen scouts riding ahead and reporting back at regular intervals. At every hamlet they would halt while Elsa spoke with the people there, explaining what was happening and assuring them of her concern and determination to keep them safe. Then she would create a Sentinel.

These golems of ice stood some seven meters tall, with six stout legs and six long arms, each one something like the trunk of an immense elephant, and each tipped with wickedly sharp (retractable) claws. She would introduce the ice-being to the inhabitants of the village, charging it with the protection of the citizens. Typically, after they got over the shock of seeing her make the Sentinel, the people would be fascinated by the idea of having their very own Protector. Sometimes they would want it to stay out of sight, being a bit afraid of it themselves (though no one had flat turned down the Queen's offer yet), but much more often they decided to park it in the middle of the village, where it could quickly respond to an attack. And, as has been noted, it was typically a favorite of the children.

This latest village, a nameless collection of _small_ houses surrounded by _small_ pastures in a _small_ upland valley, was the fourteenth she'd visited since leaving Arendelle Castle. The party was perhaps four-fifths of the way to Kalaad (what was left of it) and Elsa was anxious to put her plan into action. Each of the passes marked as entry points would receive a phalanx of Sentinels. If Weselton's thugs tried to sneak in, the Sentinels would stop them … with extreme prejudice. If the Sentinels were (somehow) destroyed, Elsa would know. She would know when and where, and Arendelle's military could be directed accordingly. It was a sound plan, and covered all their bases.

Plans, though, have an annoying habit of being circumvented.

After breakfast with the Elders (only the Queen, Princess, and Kristoff, as the Marines carried their own food supply) they all grouped up around the royals and headed out. Three more villages received Sentinels before nightfall. The cohort found a good place to camp near a rushing stream, and the cooks got supper underway.

Since an army (even a small one) travels on its stomach, there was a train of half a dozen large wagons bringing up the rear, each loaded with foodstuffs. The cooks were not actual Marines but were instead temporary hires, just for this expedition, from the town of Arendelle. They had their own wagon as well. Three of them (yes, three) were named Ole, so they got called by their last names. There was also a Lydvald and a Sigurd. Sigurd's primary responsibility was washing pots, pans, and dishes. He didn't like the job, and couldn't really recall why he'd applied in the first place, but frankly, it was about all he could handle. He wasn't terribly bright, was prone to sloth, and his sullen attitude quickly made sure the others didn't speak to him if it wasn't necessary. Consequently, unless there was work to be done, he could usually be found napping in one of the wagons.

After this morning's breakfast, as Sigurd began cleaning up, he reached into his vest, pulled out a small vial, and poured its contents into the wash-water, which briefly took on a faint, red tinge before fading back to a normal appearance. He was unaware of having done so as soon as he was done, nor would he remember scuffing a shallow hole into the dirt, dropping the vial in, and covering it with a careful foot.

He recalled none of it … just as he knew nothing of having done the same thing the previous two days … just as he recalled none of the meeting he'd had with a shady character the night before the expedition departed. He couldn't remember their conversation, or the silver that exchanged hands, or the envelope the man had given him.

Less than half a league after leaving the tiny village, Sigurd took violently ill. Muttering at their ill luck, the other cooks bundled him up and reported to the Marine Quartermaster. That man, sighing, designated one spare horse to hold him and one Marine to lead him, and sent them back toward Arendelle.

However, before night had fallen, Sigurd fell into convulsions and retched so hard it tore his stomach. After eight more minutes of vomiting blood, he was dead. The Marine charged with his care, alarmed at his sudden demise, urged his horse into a gallop to get back to his unit. With all the evil magic focused on Arendelle of late, he couldn't afford to just let this pass. It might be significant.

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. . .

. . .


	13. First Contact

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 12: First Contact**

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. . .

. . .

 _24 June 1841, 8:10am_

A calloused thumb packed tobacco into the bowl of a small clay pipe. The owner of that thumb then reached into a pocket for a match. Before he could strike it, though, another hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Not now."

"Screw you, Alf. I need a smoke."

"Roald just got back. Village up ahead. That vile weed you like so well spreads its stench three hundred paces away. Don't warn 'em." He nodded in the direction they'd been traveling. "Once we take out the villagers, you can smoke all you want."

"Dammit." He stowed the pipe in his pocket with the matches.

One of the others of the group pulled Alf aside. "You still sure this is a good idea?"

The mercenary shrugged. "Stokes wants to spread chaos and mayhem, don't he? We're followin' orders, ain't we?"

"Stretchin' that point a mite thin, you ask me."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's why I didn't ask you."

"Still say we shoulda stuck with the main group."

"An' that's why you ain't the leader."

Roald trotted up. "Hey, Alf, looks like the Witch has been through here."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"She left a great big hunk of ice in the village."

"… Ice? It's June, fer God's sake!"

"And she makes magical ice, don't she? Ain't that what the General said? She's some kinda evil sorceress, an' the Duke wants us t' take 'er out."

"No, not kill 'er. Stokes said we're to catch her." He considered his options for a moment. "Think she's still there?"

"No sign o' riders. She's travelin' around with a bunch o' troops, ain't she?"

"Supposed t' be. She wouldn't stay by herself."

One of the others piped up with, "Let's just raid the village and get on with it."

"Reef yer sails, Bert." Alf turned to Roald. "What's the best, fastest way in?"

"This here path meets up with a sort of a road 'bout a hundred-fifty paces that way. We can ride in, straight as a stick, shoot the place up, be easy as catchin' lice off a whore."

Alf nodded. "Let's group up. Everybody got your pistols primed?"

The score of men answered in the affirmative.

They were shortly trotting toward the road.

* * *

Mrs. Olafsson stuck her head out the front door (it was the _only_ door, but it did face the center of the village, so she called it the front door) and yelled, "Marda!"

A small, blonde head popped up next to the village well. "Yes, Momma?"

"You know where your brother is? He's supposed to be weeding the garden, and I don't see him anywhere."

"Ferdie went to the woods." She scratched at the earth with a twig, very glad of the fresh breath of cool air that accompanied the Sentinel.

"For the Lord's sake! Not again! That boy …"

"He said he was gonna catch a cony for dinner."

"Oh, he'll catch somethin', for sure. A good hidin'."

Marda sucked on her thumb, slightly worried for her brother. Momma didn't fool around when it came to discipline, though it didn't seem to be making much of an impression on the boy. She heard something then, a sort of rhythmic pounding, and peered around toward the east end of the village, squinting into the rising sun. Her eyes widened considerably. "Mooooommmmmmaaaa!"

"Marda! _**Run!**_ "

The little girl pounded feet for her house as hard as she could go. Across the street, two other women opened their doors, stepped out, saw the approaching riders, and scurried back inside. Bars could be heard dropping into place.

* * *

Alf was a bit disappointed. Eight hovels didn't exactly make a village in his estimation. Still, there were bound to be a few things of value; family heirlooms, wedding bracelets, possibly some gold teeth. And it would be fun in any case. Maybe a few little girls …

Roald, riding beside him, said, "That chunk of ice is bigger than I thought. Why'd you think she left it there?"

"Don't know, don't care." He held his pistol up. "Just shoot something."

Closing the last few dozen paces to the village, they concentrated on the cottages … thus missing the shudder that went through the small mountain of ice. As the first four reached the out-yard of the nearest house and fired at it, they were unceremoniously swept off their mounts by something long, slick, white, and hard as iron that moved faster than any of them could imagine. All four hit the ground with multiple cracking, crunching sounds, and didn't get up.

The Sentinel stood, its six tree-trunk legs raising it another five ells off the ground, and the rest of its arms shot out. Five men were picked off their horses and flung high, high into the air, screaming shrilly. After coming back down, they didn't move either.

With their leader and his second-in-command very suddenly out of the picture, the remaining dozen men panicked. Most of them fired at the ice monster, but the thing just seemed to absorb the bullets. They did attract its attention, though.

One would think that something massing several times the bulk of an elephant would be cumbersome and slow. One would, however, be incorrect. The thing moved so quickly they could barely follow its motions, and then it was among them.

Most of the horses reared and bucked, trying to flee. Some few of the men agreed, and spurred them away with all haste. But long, long limbs of ice were faster. Those trying to escape got skewered, plucked off their horses, and tossed aside. In a few more seconds, it was over.

The Sentinel scanned its surroundings, detecting no more enemies. It glided down to the house at the end of the row, where the village Matron lived, and softly called, "Mrs. Hoffmann?"

The Matron opened the door and took a trembling step forward, looked up at the Sentinel. "Þurs? Is it safe?"

"I believe so. If you would, please choose some of your villagers to search the bodies and secure anything of value. Once they are done, I will handle the burials. You might also want to send someone after the horses that ran off. They could be quite valuable."

The Matron leaned against her doorpost and wiped at her brow with her forearm. "You … you saved our village."

"That is my privilege, Ma'am."

"Thank you! Thank you so much! They would have killed us all!"

"You may thank Queen Elsa. It is her fierce love for Arendelle that gives me life and power." It turned and trundled off up the street. "I'll just wait here until you say it's okay to get rid of the bodies."

"Yes. … Fine. That's … just fine." She shook her head and called back into the house, "Oy, Rufus!"

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Elsewhere …_

Jerking in her saddle so abruptly that it startled her horse, Elsa had to take a moment to get it calm again.

Anna pulled up next to her. "Elsa? What's wrong?"

"… One of my Sentinels just … sent me a message."

"… What?"

"It was … not so much words as … images. It had to fend off a band of raiders."

Kristoff had ridden up at that point. "What's going on?"

"A band of raiders attacked … one of those villages. I'm … it was … the one we visited yesterday at noon. We took lunch there."

Anna nodded. "Okay. I recall which one that was. The Elder was a Matron?"

"Yes." Elsa closed her eyes, seeming to listen.

Captain Jorgensen came abreast of them. "Your Majesty, is something wrong?"

She listened for another couple of breaths before answering. "No. No, I wouldn't put it that way at all." Turning her gaze on the Captain, she continued, "I just got an image … a series of images … from one of the Sentinels I created yesterday. It defended the village from a band of about twenty brigands."

"My word!" _So she_ _can_ _communicate with her creations over a distance! Incredible!_ "Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"That was the point, yes." She allowed herself a smile. "It wiped them out. The village took no hurt."

"What of the Sentinel?"

"Undamaged."

"I would say your plan is quite the success, then, yes?"

"So far. It just makes me all the more anxious to finish the job."

"We will be in Kalaad within the hour. Then we can turn back south and secure the eastern border."

"Perfect."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _10:06am_

Captain Jorgensen had half a dozen men taking it in turn by twos to ride ahead and scout the terrain. He hadn't left his rear unguarded either, so as soon as the Marine who'd accompanied Sigurd came in sight, a quick double-blast on a horn alerted the party to his presence. They pulled up and waited until he joined them. "Captain!" He gave a quick salute and dismounted. "I'm afraid Fritz, here, is all in." His horse was, indeed, more than slightly lathered. "If someone could …"

The Captain pointed at a nearby Marine. "Olaf, see to him." Turning his eye back to the recent arrival (a Corporal by name of Vandred), he barked, "Report!"

"Sir, that cook died."

There was a bit of nearby mumbling. Captain Jorgensen held up a hand, stilling it. "May I assume that his death was in some way unusual?"

A quick recounting of the events of the previous day got him up to speed. Understanding instantly that the Queen needed to know of this, he trotted up to the royal group, the Corporal jogging after him.

Elsa was, as the Captain had anticipated, very upset by the nature of Sigurd's demise. "That doesn't sound like a natural death to me." Glancing at Kristoff, she asked, "Do you think he could have been the victim of a magical attack, the way Doran was?"

The big blond shook his head. "No way to be sure. But you're right, it sounds unnatural. It could have been poison."

"We'd been on the road nearly three days. Would a poison take that long to act?"

"Hmh. None I know of, now that you mention it." He rubbed at his chin, eyed the Captain, and shrugged. "If it was magic … how'd they get to him? And why him? He wasn't even a real cook, he just … washed … uh-boy." Gaining the Captain's attention, he asked, "Did that guy wash all the dishes? Like, every day?"

Not knowing the answer, the rest of the cook staff was soon called to stand before the Queen. Their discomfort over this was painfully obvious, as they kept making abbreviated bows and mumbled apologies. Elsa calmed them and asked, "What, exactly, were Sigurd's duties?"

The head cook (one of the Ole's) said, "All he ever did was wash the plates and pots, Yer Majesty. He was a lazy sunuva- … um. Yeah. Lazy."

"Did any of you watch him as he worked?"

They glanced at each other uneasily. "Um … no? He, uh, wasn't the easiest fella to get along with. Nobody _wanted_ to work with 'im."

Kristoff asked, "How'd he get on your crew?"

No one had a good answer for that.

The royals huddled with Kristoff and the Captain, who offered, "Sounds like a plant. But who would have known?"

Anna huffed, "The Weasel has spies everywhere. I bet this Sigurd guy got the same gash thing that Doran did."

"Geas," Elsa corrected absently.

"Whatever. But what are we gonna do about it? Do you think the plates and pots are all poisoned or something?"

"My guess would be 'or something'," answered Captain Jorgensen. "But the men have been eating off them for three days now. If he did do something to them, it's a little late for countermeasures." Giving Elsa a look, he added, "That is, unless your magic can defeat it."

She threw her hands up. "I don't even know what he might have done! This is all speculation!"

Kristoff said, "Flame."

"What?"

"All the pots and pans are made of metal, right?"

The cooks nodded vigorously. "That's right! All copper or iron or tin."

He shook his head. "We won't be able to save the tin. It melts, so put anything made from it on the bottom. The rest of it … let's get a fire going."

It didn't take long. The Marines gathered deadwood and made a big pile. Ole piled all the cookware on, and lit the wood. Everyone waited until the fire got all the items nearly glowing hot. Then Kristoff said, "Okay, Elsa, now hit 'em with everything you've got."

"… I beg your pardon?"

"Freeze the fire. Get that pile of pots as cold as you possibly can, as quickly as you can."

"Okay. Why?"

He stared off at nothing for a bit, then gave a frustrated shrug. "I don't know. It just feels right."

The sisters looked at each other. Anna said, "What could it hurt? And how often do you really get to bust loose?"

Elsa had to grin at that. "Fine. You talked me into it. But everyone is going to need to move back." She pointed at a nearby hillock. "Get over behind that."

"But, Your Majesty," protested the Captain, "that will leave you out here unprotected!"

"Would you rather freeze solid?" She gestured at the forests. "There's nobody around. I'm perfectly safe. Now scoot."

They scooted. As soon as everyone was out of sight, Elsa concentrated on the huge bonfire, drew her magic into her center, condensed it, formed it into the weapon she'd need, and then launched it at the blaze with every minim of her will.

Streamers of smoke froze solid in the air. The ground turned to ice within two hundred paces. The very gases of the atmosphere liquefied and ran down the sides of the jagged blue-white monolith that sprang into being where the fire had been.

Then an evil streamer of dark crimson burst out the top of the unbelievably cold mound and shot to the zenith with a faint, keening scream. That scream was echoed, with rather more force, by most of the Marines.

. . .

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. . .

 _Elsewhere …_

Commander General Stokes was sitting his horse, watching his men negotiate a swift, narrow stream, when an acid-coated lance of agony speared him between the eyes. He nearly fell off, but recovered before anyone noticed. He hoped.

The pain was gone nearly as suddenly as it had appeared, and he frowned in displeasure. One of his spells had just been undone! He sorted through the ones he had active, and his frown deepened. That scullery, the one that had died … his spell over the Witch's party was broken. Not just broken … unmade. Now, he would have no direct power over them. He would not be able to incapacitate them with a word. They'd have to do this the hard way.

Gnashing his teeth, he quietly promised to pay her back for the insult.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"And you're sure – _completely_ sure – that you're all right now?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. We are all fine. Every man of us felt it when you ended that … whatever it was. But the pain, though surprising, was short-lived. I assure you, we are all perfectly fit."

Elsa fussed over them for a bit longer, but Kristoff reassured her that she'd done the right thing. Once that was settled, she banished her ice, the cooks retrieved their wares, and the party went on its way.

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 ** _End Note: As most of you know, FFn has been experiencing a glitch for the last few days: no one could respond to reviews, or see them in the review list for the story. I've not had a chance yet to respond to your reviews, real life being a Right Bitch lately, so I think I'll do a public response to everyone at the beginning of the next chapter. I pray your indulgence in this._**


	14. Sources and Substance

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 _Author's Note: My apologies for not adding in my responses to your reviews (I THINK I got everyone ... if not, it wasn't for lack of trying). I can only blame it on lack of sleep, which has been my lot in life this week._

 ** _CrunchDeNumbers ..._ **  
\- Yes, the Sentinels make impressive shock troops.  
\- Elsa was right - more than she knows - that there is more to her magic than she'd suspected.

 ** _Nitebreaker ..._**  
\- "General Stokes" had experienced CRUSHING defeat once before, which is why he is being so maniacal about this campaign against Elsa.

 ** _Guest ..._**  
\- Poisoning was impractical for a few reasons. Poisons can be devilishly tricky to control, and if the troops had begun getting sick too soon, Elsa would never have gotten into position for ... sorry, no spoilers. Conversely, if the poison hadn't begun to affect them until after ... hmm, no spoilers there, either.  
\- Sigurd died from the force of the geas placed on him. He got sick because he was a poor choice for his task, but the Duke's agents didn't have time to find a better candidate.

 _ **ptahaegyptus2 ...**_  
\- "In the second, it was no one Sven knew." I'm most pleased that line got the reaction I was aiming for from you.  
\- Kristoff has fire crystals BECAUSE he is the prophesied Guardian. That will get expanded upon later.  
\- Qualification to bear fire crystals has some pretty narrow parameters.  
\- Somehow I don't think Elsa would submit to the witch's test ...

 ** _Shawn Raven ..._**  
\- No, you REALLY don't want to get on the wrong side of a Sentinel. She didn't make them to be push-overs.  
\- Glad you liked the plot point that involved Sigurd and his dish-washing. My Muse just handed me that one, pretty much as you read it.

 _Now, on with the show!_

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. . .

 **Chapter 13: Sources and Substance**

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 _24 June 1841, 9:20pm_

Elsa sat on a padded stool near the campfire, brooding over the events of the day. Even knowing exactly what she'd find, the collection of burned out hulks where the village of Kalaad once stood had badly depressed her.

A squad of eight men, dispatched by the Admiral six days earlier to see to burials and cleanup, had dragged the slaughtered livestock off into the woods, and had wrapped each human victim in shrouds for interment. Adam Harlsson, the priest that accompanied them, had done his best to identify each body, but in a couple of cases they just decided to bury an infant with one of the women and not worry about a separate marker. Sifting through the rubble had only netted him a handful of names anyway. The final set of burials had been completed the day before, and Father Harlsson simply waited on the Queen's party, as he had known she would want to speak with him, and didn't wish to chance missing her on the way back.

 _Platitudes_ , she thought, _that's all he had to offer. Where is God's love in this tragedy? Where is anything that could be viewed as solace? How …_

A mug came to hover in front of her face, cutting short her brown study. Her eyes rose to meet her sister's.

"You look like you could use some hot chocolate."

Gratefully accepting the drink, Elsa gestured, creating another stool. Anna sat, and the two of them spent a quiet minute appreciating the essential nature of the panacea that is cocoa.

The Queen broke the silence. "I don't suppose Kristoff told you anything more?"

Anna snorted. "He can't share what he doesn't know. All he can say is that he had a feeling it would work. And it did." She waved a careless hand. "It's all bound up in this whole fire-crystal-and-Earth-Elemental thing he has going. He doesn't understand it. I don't understand it. I just wish Pabbie had been more generous with a few details."

"Yeah, _that_ would have been helpful. He's supposed to be this Guardian thing, but if he doesn't know what all he can do – or even _should_ do – it can't help but put a crimp in how effective he-"

A throat cleared behind them. "What I'm supposed to do is keep you safe. That much I know."

Anna jerked around. "How long have you been standing there?"

"A while." He hefted the bag of stones slung at his waist. "And I hope being able to throw rocks really, really fast will be enough. With all this other weird magic going on …"

"… Yeah." The redhead caught her sister's eye, then twined their fingers together. "We have to make sure the _right_ magic sticks around."

Captain Jorgensen approached and bowed. "Your Majesty, Your Highness. Have you time for a word?"

"Certainly, Captain. What's on your mind?"

"Ever since this morning when you told us about getting a … message? I believe that was your word. You received a message from that Sentinel that defended the village, did you not?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. More like a series of images flashing by."

"Fine, fine. I've been turning that fact over in my head all day."

Anna looked puzzled. "What for?"

"I was just wondering: Do you think it would be possible for you to _initiate_ communication with one of them?"

Elsa sat up rather straight. "What? You mean … try to talk to one? From here?"

"Perhaps? It may not exactly be 'talk', but if you could … contact one? Perhaps be able to see what it sees?"

Elsa frowned, her mind suddenly racing furiously. "I … huh. I never have done that with Olaf or Marshmallow."

"You know, though, Sis, that Olaf always seems to know where you are."

"… Does he?"

"Don't tell me you've never noticed that!"

"… Okay, fine, I won't tell you."

Kristoff asked, "Have you ever tried to communicate with Olaf over a distance?"

"Well, no. Why would I?"

"How about giving it a try now?"

"Maybe because I don't have the _least_ _ **clue**_ how to go about it!"

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

He made calming motions. "I'm just saying, it's something you might be able to do, if you can get yourself thinking in the right direction. Step one is clearing your mind from distractions, and the first step toward _that_ is closing your eyes."

She cocked an incredulous eyebrow his way, shook her head, and let her eyelids drop shut.

"Good. Now, think about Olaf. Think about how you feel about him, about that … wasn't your word 'exhilaration'? Think about the joy you felt when you created him."

A tiny smile formed on her lips. She whispered, "Happiest I'd been in thirteen years."

"Right! Think about his carefree approach to life, about how happy he is all the time. Think about his love for flowers and summer and warm hugs and …"

 **[ [ Hi, Elsa! ] ]**

 _ **[ [ Olaf?! ] ]**_

 **[ [ This is like the best warm hug ever! How come we haven't done this before? ] ]**

Elsa's eyes flew open along with her mouth. "I can hear him."

Anna gasped, then bounced up and down and squealed, then threw her arms around Kristoff. "That's so awesome! How'd you get so smart?"

He blinked down at the Princess in his arms. "You know … I don't really know." Though neither of them could tell, under his shirt and vest, the fire crystals were glowing.

 **[ [ Elsa? You still there? ] ]**

 _ **[ [ Yes! Olaf, is that really you? ] ]**_

 **[ [ Um … I think so? Snow and sticks and this great carrot Anna got me for my nose? My own personal flurry? Is there another snowman you made that I don't know about? Besides Marshmallow, I mean. ] ]**

 _ **[ [ No, no. Well, sort of. Um, except they're … okay, they aren't people-shaped, and they're really big, and they're mostly ice instead of snow, but … I didn't tell you about my plans before we left, did I? ] ]**_

 **[ [ Nope. You've been heading up into the mountains, though. I just figured you wanted to make another ice palace somewhere. ] ]**

 _ **[ [ I want to protect Arendelle from … bad people. There are bad people who have come in over the border and … and … ] ]**_

 **[ [ Oh, no! They hurt a village! ] ]**

 _ **[ [ … Yes. ] ]**_

 **[ [ What can I do to help? ] ]**

 _ **[ [ You're doing it, Olaf. You showed me I could talk to you like this. Now I have to talk to the others. ] ]**_

 **[ [ Oh, okay. If anybody needs a warm hug, let me know. ] ]**

 _ **[ [ I'll do that. Thank you, Olaf. ] ]**_

Elsa looked at those around her, an expression of wonder on her face. "I guess there's a lot more to my magic than I'd thought."

Anna pulled her into a group hug with Kristoff. "You Are So Awesome!"

Captain Jorgensen said, "So I take it the experiment was a success?"

"Yes. Yes, it was."

"Does that mean you can speak with your more recent creations?"

Pulling away from the hug, Elsa stood straight and concentrated for a moment. "Now I regret naming them all Þurs."

"Can you use their positions to tell them apart?" The Captain was getting overtly excited about the prospects.

"Wait a bit, please." She stood quietly, listening to something only she could hear. Then she sighed and said, "Maybe? It's hard to know."

"Can you tell how far away they are?"

"Um … now that you mention it … sort of." She pointed roughly southwest. "The nearest one is that way, but I can't really put a figure on what 'nearest' means."

Anna asked, "So that would be the one we left about half a league back? At that decent-sized place that straddled a stream?"

Elsa nodded.

Anna made 'shooing' motions. "Well go on! Talk to it!"

Settling her mind, Elsa closed her eyes again and tried to picture the general area where she'd formed her latest creation. In but a few seconds …

 **[ [ My Lady Queen. Your humble servant. ] ]**

 _ **[ [ Thank you,**_ _ **Þurs. How are you feeling? ] ]**_

 **[ [ If you mean physical sensation, My Lady, I don't really have any of that, not possessing a nervous system. ] ]**

 _ **[ [ … Of course. Have you had any further interaction with the villagers? ] ]**_

 **[ [ Only the children. There are currently three of the older ones lying at length on my back. Apparently the evening is warm enough to allow such. ] ]**

She couldn't quite stifle a giggle. _ **[ [ I see. May I assume they've been pestering you ever since we left? ] ]**_

 **[ [ I don't view it as 'pestering', My Lady. I am your representative here in this place. It is a position of honor, and I thank you for creating me. ] ]**

A couple of tears surprised the Queen. Surreptitiously she wiped at her eyes and answered, _ **[ [ I'm glad I made you, too … and very glad you feel that way. ] ]**_

 **[ [ Ah. The children just left. There is no one about now. By your leave, I will begin my patrol of the area. ] ]**

 _ **[ [ Oh, certainly! We may speak more later. And please don't hesitate to call for me at your need. ] ]**_

 **[ [ I will do that, My Lady Queen. A good night to you. ] ]**

Their connection faded. Elsa looked at those around her, then focused on Anna … whom she swept into a tight hug. "Thank you! Thank you, Anna, so much!"

"Uh … sure. You're welcome or whatever. But … why?"

"For showing me how to love."

"Pshaw. I didn't show you anything."

"Hush, now, none of that. You are Arendelle's hero. And mine."

The Princess grinned. "I'll take it."

Captain Jorgensen cleared his throat. "May I assume that experiment was also successful?"

"Completely."

He rubbed his hands together in glee. "Excellent!"

"I take it you have an idea based on this ability?"

He quickly outlined his proposal. "So then if there is an incursion anywhere along the line …"

"Then Elsa can send all the nearby Sentinels to fight 'em!"

Tapping a finger on her lower lip, the Queen finally nodded. "That's sound. Workable. I like it."

"That does mean," put in Kristoff, "that you have a lot more Sentinels to create."

"Eh. I knew that already." She allowed a soft smile to grace her lips. "I'm also glad to know that they … well, they don't mind my having created them."

Anna gave her hand a squeeze. "You made them through love. That's why."

. . .

. . .

. . .

Two men, one tall and lanky, one shorter and wider (and both scruffy) crouched in the thick scrub that blanketed the mountainside opposite Elsa's camp. The tall one adjusted a telescope. He was peering almost due west into the sunset, and had to get creative with how he shaded the thing while still holding it steady.

"So is it her?"

"Shut yer gob, Alex."

"Come on, Lars, lemme have a go at it."

"Like Hell. You drop this thing an' it's my skin that'll get peeled."

"My eyes are better'n yours."

"Ha-ha, funny man. You oughta play that tune f'r th' Duke."

Alex crossed his arms and huffed, "Asshole."

Lars ignored him. After another minute, he stiffened, and his companion noticed. "What? What'd ya see?"

"That's gotta be her an' 'er sister. Blonde an' a ginger, right?"

"That's what th' Gen'ral said. Lemme look!"

"Bugger off." He squinted a bit more, then put the telescope away. "Yeah, that's her. An' it explains why that patrol's so big. It ain't a patrol."

Trying to salvage some of his wounded dignity, Alex sniffed, "Guess I'll go tell th' Gen'ral."

" **WE** can go tell 'im. I spotted 'em first."

"Only 'cause you was ridin' too far ahead!"

"That don't signify. He wants t' know, an' it'll be pushin' midnight b'times we get back t' camp." He strode off eastward. "Let's get the horses."

Again, Alex muttered, "Asshole," and stepped quickly after Lars. Then, quite suddenly, he was staring at the point of a blade.

"I've had jist about enough outta you. Think I'm deaf?"

His larynx bobbing a few times, Alex stared down the length of the dagger and slowly shook his head.

"Just 'cause you can't do ever'thin' yourself an' grab all the glory don't mean I gotta put up with that midden heap you call a mouth. I am fuckin' _**tired**_ of it. All day it's been 'asshole' this an' 'bastard' that an' 'shit-head' somethin' else, an' I'm here to tell ya it better stop. Or do you wanna pick up a new nickname? Like Noseless or Scarface or One-Eye?"

Alex shook his head again, this time a little more vigorously.

Giving the shorter man a disgusted snort, Lars sheathed his blade and stalked off. He'd only gone five paces when the throwing knife sank into the back of his neck. He hit the ground like a handful of mud.

Alex pulled the knife out and wiped it off on Lars's shirt. Then he rummaged the telescope out of the dead man's pocket, and relieved him of his purse. "Guess ya won't be needin' this," he muttered, hefting it with a sneer. Then he hefted it again, frowned, and opened it. "Well, shit. Nothin' but copper." Giving a careless shrug, he stuck it in his sack anyway, and trotted off toward the horses. "Best get on the way. The Gen'ral's gold's waitin' on _**my**_ news."

. . .

. . .

. . .


	15. Ready, Fire, Aim!

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _Author's Note: For those who complained about the last few chapters being short (you know who you are!) I hope this one better meets your expectations. ;-D_**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 14: Ready, Fire, Aim!**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle's eastern border, 24 June 1841, 11:50pm_

The picket line guard stopped Alex when he got to the treeline, but only long enough to check his credentials. Soon he was riding for the center of the camp.

Everyone in the mercenary force had come to understand that the Commander General didn't sleep much of late. His officers knew that he didn't sleep at all, and that worried most of them. Five of the men had served under him in Weselton's forces, before being dishonorably discharged. Their shock had been great when the same man who had stripped them of their rank and exiled them from their homeland got in touch with them to ask if they would be willing to lead a mercenary force against Arendelle. They wondered about his motives … but they couldn't argue with the gold.

Alex came up to General Stokes's tent and dismounted before speaking with his guards, who then ushered him in. Stokes glanced up from the map spread out on a folding table and quirked an eyebrow at the man, who saluted smartly. "Sir! I found their camp."

Quickly moving around the table, Stokes stopped right in front of Alex. "Where?"

"West by southwest, two hours' ride."

"Any streams between here and there?"

With only the tiniest possible hesitation, Alex answered, "No sir, not really. I didn't cross no water my horse couldn't jump."

Nodding slowly to himself, Stokes called to his guards. "Rouse the men. I want to be moving in half an hour."

They didn't even think about questioning him, merely saluted and ran.

Stokes frowned. "Where is your partner?"

"Sir, I'm sorry t' report that Private Marden is dead."

"I see. How did that come about?"

"He got throwed from his horse, sir." Alex had had plenty of time to come up with a plausible story.

"I see. And where did this happen?"

Alex knew that the mercenaries would be approaching the Queen's camp from a different direction, far from Lars's body. "At the edge of a ravine we was crossing, sir."

"Really."

The General's scrutiny was making Alex feel like fidgeting. He suppressed the urge. "Yes, sir."

"Did you see him fall?"

"No, sir. I was ridin' in front, and didn't know he got pitched till his horse went past me. I went back an' seen him down in th' ravine."

"Are you certain he was dead?"

"Went down an' checked, so, yeah. Sir."

Stokes knew the man was lying. Being lied to in this manner, by a sub-creature not even worthy of his notice, irritated him. He also knew that if a man lied about one thing, he'd lie about others. Walking over to the front of his tent, he released the pulls and closed it, then turned back to Alex and clasped his hands at the small of his back. "I believe it is time to revise your story."

"… Sir?"

Taking a step closer, Stokes said, "I don't know why you're lying, but I know you are. Now give me the truth. Did you, or did you not, find the Queen's camp?"

"Yes! Yes I did!"

"Did you lie to me about the water?"

"No! Really, there was only a couple or three little brooks!"

"And Private Marden?"

"What … what about him, sir?"

 _Ah, now we're getting somewhere._ "Is he actually dead?"

"Oh! Yes, sir!"

"Where is his horse?"

"I don't know, sir. It disappeared when I went back t' look for him."

There was that stench of untruth again. The General's hand shot out and gripped Alex's throat, lifting the man off the ground. Alex scrabbled at the arm holding him.

"You have one final chance to give me the truth."

This, to put it mildly, Alex had not expected. He wheezed out, "Okay!" Stokes dropped him.

Recovering from his stumble, Alex massaged his throat and said, in a tiny voice. "He pulled a knife on me. Told me he was tired o' hearin' me bitch at 'im. I was afraid, so … my knife got him first."

After studying him for a few breaths, Stokes said, "Well, that's closer to the truth, at least." Thinking it over, he asked, "Where did you strike him?"

"Sir?"

"Where did your knife enter his body?"

"In … in his neck. Sir."

Something still wasn't quite right. The General's eyes grew dark … large … menacing. "Front or back?"

"… . . . … Back."

"Were you grappling at the time?"

Coming to grips finally with the realization that his Commander had abilities he'd not suspected, Alex merely shook his head.

"So you struck him from behind, while he was unaware?"

A tiny nod was his answer.

"What did you take from his body?

He blinked at the taller man for a moment, then sighed and pulled out the telescope and Lars's purse, laying them on the table.

"So you killed a man over a telescope."

"No! No, sir. I killed … killed him …" He sighed and slumped. "Killed 'im 'cause he needed killin'."

"That is not your judgement to make."

"He woulda killed me."

"Perhaps." He took another step, loomed over the man. Ordinarily he would simply incinerate such a base creature, but he needed sword fodder. "You will go back to your squad and get your equipment, then return here. You will ride beside me to direct us to the camp." Leaning down right into Alex's face, he continued, in a deadly calm, "And you will never attempt to lie to me again."

"No, sir!" he squeaked, "Never!"

"Speak of this to no one. If you do, I will know."

"Yes, sir! I-I mean, no, sir!" _swallow_ "Whatever you say, sir!"

"Get out of my sight."

Alex ran.

Stokes motioned to one of his guards. "Go get Sergeant Rolfsson. Tell him to bring me all the bullets from his squad."

The man only hesitated a moment before saluting and trotting off into the darkness.

 _Soon,_ ran Stokes's thoughts, _soon, I will have her in my power. Soon, I can restore my lost honor._

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Near Elsa's camp, 25 June 1841, 3:55am_

Corporal Karl Stoltz of the Queen's Guard stood for a moment, staring out into the pre-dawn darkness. He turned to his companion and softly muttered, "You notice it just got real quiet?"

Private Tad Thane nodded. "Was just about to mention it."

"Put on your camouflaged cloak and head over to Uwe's position. Let him know. Then make for the Captain. I'll head to Sergeant Christian's squad."

Tad melted into the night.

It was a matter of less than a minute for Karl to make it to the base of the huge conifer that his Sergeant had chosen as his lookout platform. There was a thin, dark cord hanging down the side of the tree. Karl gave it two quick jerks. Eight seconds later a Guard dropped out of the branches. His voice so muted it barely carried the two paces between them, he said, "Report."

"Someone coming in from the north, no idea how many. Night noises suddenly stopped. Sent Tad to tell Uwe and the Captain."

The man nodded once. "Continue on to Lieutenant Jarlsson's position and inform them. You have flares, right?"

"Right."

"Keep 'em handy. If it _**is**_ an attacking force, they can also be used to fire into their ranks and break up their assault patterns."

Karl's eyes widened slightly. "Huh. Hadn't thought of that. Heh, yeah, that'd kick the anthill, wouldn't it?"

"Most likely. And keep your sword handy."

"… You don't have to tell _me_ that."

"Sorry. Habit."

§§

Corporal Uwe Narden knew of the approaching force before Tad got there, and had sent two of his men to let the Captain know, so Tad stayed with the squad.

Captain Jorgensen, painfully aware that there were brigands in the area, had taken every precaution in his arsenal to make triply and quadruply sure to protect his Queen. Admiral Naismith had gone over tactics until they were both convinced they'd exhausted every reasonable scenario … and a few that weren't so reasonable.

They had enlisted aid from Elsa's magic in several instances. Each Guard carried a saber, and she had gone to the effort of enchanting all of them. The flare launchers that Sergeant Christian had mentioned were the work of her hands as well. In addition, she had designed a different sort of Sentinel, roughly the size of a bear, but a great deal more dangerous. Ten of them surrounded the royal tent. With eighty of the Guard standing between them and danger from the north, and a small river behind them to the south, Elsa, Anna and Kristoff felt quite safe.

That was their first mistake.

§§

The mercenary forces were divided into three groups, with about fifty in each group. One group would attack from the north, then the second from the west. Once they'd fully engaged the Guard, the last group, Sergeant Rolfsson's contingent, and the one General Stokes accompanied, would storm down the mountain from the east and wipe them out in a flanking maneuver. He was eminently confident of victory, given the _special_ bullets these men were to use. He couldn't wait to see the Witch's face …

Stokes's body had come with a lot of his memories, but the man's deep knowledge of tactics wasn't among them. So the one currently using it wasn't aware of a tongue-in-cheek military adage that wasn't really very tongue-in-cheek: No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.

In the first place, they hadn't planned on the Guard being fully aware of their approach. So when the first strike force galloped out of the woods, it was to meet a veritable hail of bullets. Fully half of them died in the first few seconds. The rest jumped (or fell) off their horses and found cover, then began returning fire. A few moments later something bright flew up over their heads and burst into a huge flower of glowing ice, bathing their positions in light and marking them as targets. Some of them fired at it, but that had no effect. The Guard, aided by the light, began picking them off.

§§

Of course Captain Jorgensen had awakened Elsa as soon as he determined they were going to be attacked. She had helpfully provided them with bulwarks and breastworks of hardened ice, giving her men at once excellent cover and a convenient rest for their rifles to improve their aim. And it was she that had launched the 'flare' over the attackers.

The Captain turned to her. "The flanking force ought to be showing up any second, and they won't be offering themselves as easy targets. Are you ready?"

Elsa didn't _think_ he could see her trembling, but nodded a few times to help mask it anyway. Carefully keeping her voice as steady as she could, she answered, "As soon as you think the timing is right." She took her sister's hand, and Anna gave her a quick squeeze.

"Stand ready."

Kristoff, a large bag of rocks slung across each of his broad shoulders, hovered protectively over the women, eyes darting around. "Elsa, could you put another of those flare-flowers over that way?"

The Captain held up a hand. "Not quite yet. We want them exposed at the right time, but if there's already light, they'll just go around."

Elsa was scared. She hated being scared. She'd spent three-fifths of her _**life**_ being scared, and had never grown even slightly accustomed to it. After her coronation, after the Thaw, she'd thought her troubles were over. Now she berated herself for her naiveté. The constant gunfire grated her nerves raw and hurt her ears, making it difficult to concentrate. But when the Captain finally gave her the signal, she was able to throw up a second flare … and loose her guardians.

§§

Originally, ex-Lieutenant Thad Hollingsworth had considered the General's plan quite sound … especially his part in it. If things went even mostly right, his force would be in little actual danger. The gunfire would easily cover the sound of their galloping approach, and they'd be upon the camp before the Arendellians knew what was happening, shoot things up, and withdraw to the immediate safety of the wood where they could snipe the leftovers, keeping their attention on him and away from the General's attacking force.

Now? Now, he was cursing himself for a fool. Just because the Queen was young and untried in battle didn't mean her military would be. And they had quickly proven themselves to be competent in the extreme. They'd employed the Queen's magic, working it into their defenses, and the first taste of that (a huge, glowing flower that burst into brilliance in the air just above the trees) had left him and most of his men nearly blinded. They milled around, trying to calm their spooked horses, when the Guard began sniping them … at least, he thought it must be the Guard. They seemed to be using some different sorts of weapons. The ex-Lieutenant knew his firearms, and the weird, ringing reports weren't like anything he'd ever heard before. In sprays of blood and flying limbs, men fell to earth all around him, and he wheeled his mount, trying to get them to rally to him. He never got the chance. Suddenly there were … _things_ among them.

The creatures were some five or six paces long and dead white, boasting massive, crushing jaws, long limbs ending in needle-like talons, and a pair of short, wickedly-curved blades coming off each shoulder. And they were fast. Hellishly fast. Men were dropping every few seconds, and many of those left rode away in a panic, bending all their energies to get as far from the fight as possible. The Lieutenant spurred his horse forward, aiming his pistol at one of the lethal beasts and popping off two shots into its center body mass.

All that did was get its attention. It spun and leapt, carrying him completely off his horse, and landing on him hard, breaking several ribs. He didn't really have time for the pain to register before jagged teeth of ice met through his neck.

§§

"Sir Bjorgman, I think you can stop now. They're either retreating or dead."

Kristoff threw two more deadly rocks and growled, "I like 'dead' better. You don't have to worry about them coming back."

Captain Jorgensen chuckled. "After the hand we just dealt them, I doubt they'll stop running until they reach the Baltic Sea." He watched as Elsa's ice-creatures chased down a few stragglers, smiling in grim satisfaction. "This is exactly the sort of outcome we want. Most of the attacking force dead, and those few left carrying stories about the fight to every tavern between here and Moskva. I'll warrant we'll hear …" He turned abruptly, scanning the mountain to the east, then shouted, "There are more of them! Form ranks east!" Quickly locating Elsa, he strode over and said, "Can you get your beasts around to the east? We've got …" Then he frowned. "Your Majesty?"

She was a shaking mass in Anna's arms. Being in contact with her creations, directing their movements, meant that she vicariously experienced every death, every dismemberment, every sliced and spurting artery, every gout of blood from between crushing jaws. It had nearly undone her. Anna looked up at the Captain and shook her head. "You and Kristoff are going to have to handle the rest of it." Stroking her sister's head to try to calm her sobbing, she added, "I don't think Elsa's gonna be up to much for a while."

The Captain didn't really like that answer, but he was nothing if not flexible. The first two arms of the pincer attack had been quite thoroughly crushed, and he knew how good his men were. He assigned six of them to watch the west and north for any funny stuff, and got the rest of his Guard positioned to repel the next wave. Kristoff shouldered in among them, a pair of rocks ready in each hand.

§§

General Stokes (or at least what currently looked like General Stokes) listened with mounting anticipation to the heavy gunfire coming from just the other side of a spur of rock. He pointed to Alex and said, "You'll lead the charge. And be sure the Queen stays alive."

This was the very last thing the mercenary wanted to do. He was more than a little afraid that it would _literally_ be the very last thing he ever did. People in the lead tended to get shot. But charging the enemy guns, especially after they'd been significantly reduced and were otherwise distracted, held a much higher chance of leaving him alive than he'd get from disagreeing with the General. He'd figured out that much.

They were divided into five groups of eleven, and would sweep down on the camp in an arrowhead formation, shooting as they came. That would help to confuse any retaliatory fire, and give them the best chance of killing what remained of the Guard. The General would ride immediately behind the lead group. Alex watched him for a minute, waiting for his signal …

§§

"Elsa? Can you walk?"

The Queen stumbled laboriously to her feet, eyes unfocused, whispering, "So much blood … so much … so much blood …"

"Let's get you to the south end of the camp, up here by the river."

Clouded blue eyes met Anna's. "What?"

"I want you out of the field of fire. Come on." They trotted down to the bank, away from where Captain Jorgensen was directing the defenses, in the lee of a large boulder. "There. Now, Elsa, look at me."

"… Okay."

"Can you make us a wall of ice? I want it here, on the west side, just in case one of 'em tries to snipe us. This big rock has our back, but …"

It didn't take much effort, and Elsa soon had them protected. She placed a short wall to the north side of the boulder, giving them some cover, but allowing them to see over it if they wanted. Then Elsa collapsed against her sister and let the tears come. "I killed them."

"I know. And not to make light of it, but … better them than you."

"It's different. Anna, it's … not like anything else I've … I could see each one as he died. So much blood. Didn't know there was that much blood inside _anyone_. So much …"

Anna stroked the light blonde hair and made soothing noises. "The Captain and Kristoff will take care of the fight now. You just rest. I'm tired, so I know you must be tired, too."

Elsa let her eyes drop shut. "And the guns are so loud."

"They are, aren't they?"

As if revealing a prophecy, two dozen rifles spoke, then two dozen more. Elsa curled into a little ball and covered her ears.

§§

Stokes's thoughts went something like this: _My first force surprised them and cut down a lot of them before they could respond. It developed into a fusillade of standoffs, until my second force came at them from the side. That was the second big volley I heard. Now they're decimated and back to a potshot every second or two. Time to attack._ He gave Alex the signal.

All the mercenaries had their firearms in one hand, the reins in the other as they boiled out of concealment and galloped down the slope, firing as soon as they thought they had a target.

Alex immediately realized that something was wrong. In the first place, the Arendelle Guard were protected behind what looked like a wall of white stone. How had they managed to build such a thing for a temporary camp? The exploding bullets the General had supplied them with blew decent-sized chunks out of it … but it seemed abnormally thick. It wasn't going down. In the second, he saw that the field outside that wall was thickly littered with the corpses of his fellow soldiers of fortune. In the third – and this was by far the most important – he realized that he was not riding toward a dispirited, disorganized, shot-up remnant. No, he was riding toward some five dozen rifles aimed straight at him.

Then half an ounce of lead tore through his neck, exploding the carotid artery and pulverizing two vertebrae, and he stopped realizing anything ever again.

§§

"Rank One, fire! … Rank Two, fire! … Rank Three, fire! … Rank Four, fire!"

Just like that, the mass of brigands descending upon the camp turned into a melee of severed body parts and screaming men and stumbling horses.

"Rank One, fire! … Rank Two, fire! … Rank Three, fire! … Rank Four, fire!"

The assault ground to a falling, bloody halt as those few left sought shelter behind trees and rocks.

"Ranks One and Two, form up at the wall! Fire at will!" Then, in a more conversational tone, the Captain said, "Rank Three, your flares, if you would."

A dozen bright stars of glowing ice arced up out of the camp and hung in the sky over the slope to the east, slowly descending. The fire rate from the men at the wall nearly doubled as their targets became clear.

Someone among the brigands hollered, "Retreat! Retreat!"

§§

Commander General Stokes stared in mounting rage as his forces were mowed down by a decidedly _**not**_ dispirited and _**not**_ heavily wounded Arendelle Guard. _How can this be? What went wrong? The plan was …_ It was then that he noticed the icy breastworks, liberally pocked with impact marks, but still plenty strong. _The Winter Witch!_

He lost his temper then. With a cry of utter rage, he spurred his horse toward the camp. _I'll kill you all myself!_

§§

Kristoff had been holding back, letting the Guard live up to their name, when he spotted an ornate uniform barreling down the slope, waving a saber and screaming incoherent insults. _That would be the one in charge_ , he figured. _Time to put a stop to this._ He pulled a pair of rocks from his bag, judged the distance, and let fly.

One of the supersonic missiles struck the General just below the sternum, shredding the descending aorta and breaking his spine cleanly in half. The other took the top of his head off. The impacts knocked him several paces back from his horse, where he landed in a bloody heap.

Smirking to himself, Kristoff looked for another target … but then his eyes jerked back to the dead man … who apparently wasn't dead yet. _That's not possible!_

Stokes had to use some of his extra power to force the severely damaged form crookedly to its feet. He couldn't stop now! He had to …

Two more rocks tore through him, one in his upper chest, one ripping off his right arm. He spun around, staggering, but stayed on his feet. One step down the hill. Another. A third …

Both femurs exploded as the rocks pulverized bone and gristle. He pitched forward on his face without a sound.

Kristoff watched him for a few seconds. Then every hair on his back stood erect as the 'dead man' began to glow with a dim, red light. Then it began to smolder. Then it burst into flame, and the flame climbed and climbed and climbed.

"Thor's Beard! That's a Fire Elemental!" He sprinted toward where he'd last seen Elsa and Anna, spotting their little redoubt, and ran at them screaming, "Elsa, make an ice bridge! You have to get to the other side of the river, now!"

Anna popped her head up. "What are you yelling about?" Then she saw the still-growing column of flame and gasped. It was … looking at her.

Kristoff leaped over the wall and pulled Elsa to her feet. "Ice bridge! Now! We have to put running water between us and him!"

A deafening, high-pitched scream from the flaming thing rent the air, and the Queen gaped stupidly at it. It now had recognizable limbs, and had taken a long step in their direction.

"Elsa!" He shook her. "If you don't want all of us to die, make an ice bridge RIGHT NOW!"

She blinked, her gaze darting from the fiery monster to her sister to the river. Raising one hand, she started constructing a narrow bridge for them to cross on.

Calling to Anna to follow, he picked up Elsa and ran out onto the icy surface.

§§

That which had been General Stokes scanned the camp, zeroing in on Elsa, and his rage mounted to heights inconceivable by mortal minds. All this was _her_ fault. _She_ was responsible for this defeat. But no matter, he would have her, she couldn't run, couldn't …

He noticed the river.

 _ **NOOOOOOO!**_

§§

The people of Arendelle are a hardy folk, and the Guard represents the best of them. They knew magic existed even before they got a Queen who could conjure ice _ex nihilo_ , and were conversant with all the various legends and creatures thereof.

This pretty much stumped them, though.

Captain Jorgensen saw what Kristoff was doing, saw that the Queen was headed across the river, put two and two together and made up his mind. Grabbing a Sergeant, he said grimly, "We have to buy the Queen some time."

The man looked at him, then back at the approaching nightmare, then nodded. "Don't think bullets'll do much to it, though."

"No. Likely they won't. But the flares might."

The Sergeant immediately started barking orders, getting his men into a ragged line between the Queen and the monster. As soon as he had them in place, he called, "Fire flares!"

A score of bright-white balls raced toward the thing, impacting it over much of its … well, its body. They immediately hissed into steam, but it did make the Elemental recoil.

The Captain knew that each flare would only fire three times, and they'd already used several. He glanced back at Elsa. They were maybe halfway across. "Fire flares!"

This time the flame-fiend dodged most of the missiles, and kept coming.

"Concentrate on its middle! Wait till it's closer!" Three more long strides brought it right up to the edge of the camp. "Fire flares!"

At this distance, they all hit. The thing thrashed around, and gave vent to another awful screech.

"Draw your swords! Defend your Queen!" He peered over his shoulder. The royals were almost to the opposite bank.

Secretly, the Captain hoped this would work better than the flares. They, after all, were only meant to create light, even if they were ice magic. But the enchantments Elsa had placed on the swords were of an entirely different magnitude. "Men! Listen carefully. Strike once and then retreat. Don't let it get any closer to hitting you than you have to. If it swings at you, meet its attack with your sword. You know your footwork. Use it!" Then he drew his own blade and sprinted at the Elemental.

But the thing had evidently had its fill of ice magic. Instead of striking at the oncoming soldiers, it drove both fists into the ground, knocking most of the men off their feet and shattering the ice wall.

From the earth, flames erupted everywhere. A few of the Guard were caught in the blasts and died screaming. The rest avoided the attack and pressed on. A very few actually got in a hit, and if they'd thought the thing had been loud _before_ … this sonic cacophony nearly bowled them over.

Where each saber hit, a tiny portion of the creature turned to ice. It wasn't simply a chunk of ice hitting it … no, it lost a bit of itself in the process. Wildly shrieking, it began swinging at the men.

The Captain noted that Elsa had reached the opposite bank and had dispelled her ice bridge. Kristoff was still carrying her, and was making rapid progress into the woods. He called to his men, "Retreat! Retreat! Split up and head into the trees."

"But, sir …"

"Don't argue! We can't beat this thing, and the Queen is safe for now. We need to live so we can find her and protect her.

"… Yes, sir."

The retreat was about as orderly as it could be under the circumstances, and the field was soon empty of living men (the mercenaries, those few that were left, had scattered as soon as they spotted the fire being).

The Elemental, though, stood at the edge of the water, screaming its impotent rage to the sky. Soon, though, it calmed down, peered east and west along the river, and headed purposefully upstream. It would find a mortal body it could steal, then find a place to cross.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _ **End Note: Congrats to those of you who had already connected all the dots (Kristoff's comment about why Anna would think there were only two intelligent races being the first one; the logical assumption that if there were Earth Elementals, there would be other types as well being the next; and the fact that the possessing spirit used fire being another). Each of you gets a virtual chocolate-macadamia cookie!**_

 _ **So ... now Elsa & the gang are separated from the Guard. Where will they go? How will they handle the Elemental? Why is it after her in the first place? Time will tell...**_


	16. A Little Explanation

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _Author's Note: Okay, then, how would YOU react to being hunted by a supernatural being? Think about it._**

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 15: A Little Explanation ...**

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. . .

. . .

 _The Eastern Reaches of Arendelle, 25 June 1841, 5:10am_

"Kris … Kristoff … hold up."

He turned to look back at Anna. "Sorry, Sweetheart. Is it your turn now?"

She stumbled up and stopped in front of him, bent over with her hands on her knees, puffing hard. "Can't we … just stop … for a minute?"

He set Elsa down and steadied her until she found her legs, then reached for Anna.

She backed away and held up a hand. "Kristoff … seriously. You've been running … for like … must be twenty minutes … carrying one of us … the whole time." Taking a few deep breaths, she asked, "I knew you were strong, but aren't you _tired_ yet? You _gotta_ be tired! _Nobody_ can run forever!"

Glancing between the two women, he considered her statement. "You're right. Nobody can run forever. But I don't _have_ to run forever. I only have to run until we get to the Bronze Pass River."

"… Huh? Where's that?"

"Maybe a bit more than a league south."

"What's so special … whoosh … haven't run that much in, like, ever … What's so special about that River?"

"There's an island in the middle of it. Once we get to it, the Elemental can't follow. It can't cross running water. There's an ancient pact."

" _How_ ," inquired Elsa in exasperation, "do you _know_ that?"

"Grandpabbie."

The Queen's perplexed expression would have made Kristoff laugh under better circumstances. Here, though, he knew he didn't have time for explanations. "Look, I'll be happy to tell you everything you need to know once we get to the island. Until then, we're not safe, and since we couldn't get to the horses in time I have to conserve my wind. Neither one of you is bigger than a minute, so it's not really that hard, but I can't run and chat at the same time." He grabbed Anna and swept her up into his arms. "Elsa, can you run now?"

"Kristoff, wait." She had adjusted her ice-dress so that it ended just below her knees, to keep it out of her way. Scandalous it might be, but there was no one around to be scandalized, and Kristoff had insisted that speed was their primary (verily, their only) requirement. "You're going to kill yourself. I had no idea you were planning to run so far. Let me help."

" _Running_ will help. We have to-"

"Yes, I know." She took a few steps back and began weaving her hands together around a blue-white ball of magic. It grew until she threw it away, spreading her arms wide and concentrating.

The ice-creature resembled a horse, except that it had eight legs and was about two and a half times the size of a Percheron. Kristoff's jaw dropped. "Sleipnir!"

"Yes. Or a reasonable facsimile." She gestured, and the giant horse knelt. "Up you go."

Anna gave a tiny "EEEEEEE" and scrambled up on its back. As soon as she was in place, the ice changed under her, becoming somewhat saddle-shaped and extruding a couple of curved protrusions that could only be handles. Elsa raised herself up on a column of ice and gracefully _("I'm pretty sure,"_ thought Anna _, "that she can't_ _avoid_ _being graceful.")_ took her place in front of her sister. Kristoff got on behind Anna, his arms encircling her protectively.

"So," said Elsa, "we keep heading south?"

"As fast as possib-WHOA!"

Sleipnir took off at what must have been fifteen leagues per hour, its gait smooth and powerful.

He caught his breath. "Yeah. Like that."

Anna pouted, "I wish you'd thought to do this before we ran our legs off."

There was no response for a handful of heartbeats. Then Elsa said, "It took me a while … to get things … um … sorted."

"Oh. Okay." Anna gave her sister's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Whenever you're ready to talk about it."

"I know." She stared a hole in the horse's mane. "It … might be a while."

"I understand."

"I sincerely hope you never do."

Anna turned back to Kristoff, snuggling into his embrace. "So. You said you'd explain when we had time. Looks like we have time to me. Wanna spill? What do you know about Fire Elementals? Or any others, for that matter?"

He raised himself in his seat and looked behind them, scanning the landscape for any sign of their pursuer. Finally nodding, he turned back and said, "Okay. For starters, you'd made mention before of 'two sentient races'. There are more than that. A lot more, if you count the various sub-divisions, but I'll stick to the basics."

"How come we never see 'em?"

"You've seen the trolls."

"Yeah, but the others-"

"The trolls are approachable. Friendly, even, as long as they aren't threatened. But they don't have to be, and they haven't always been so. If it weren't for a special connection they share with Arendelle's ruling family line, you likely _never_ would have met them. Elementals tend to keep to themselves."

"… Okay. So … what's this guy's deal? Why is he trying to kill us? And does he have a name? I mean, besides just 'Fire Elemental'. Trolls are Earth Elementals, right?"

"Right. Fire Elementals are called Ifritts. That's a catch-all term. Among themselves, they divide up along the lines of where they live or what they can do, like the Calidans or the Aalishi or the Djinn. Some of them have to stay in their domain. Those are the weaker ones. This guy? Maybe not so much. Still, he can't cross running water."

"Why not?"

"Um … used to be, the Elementals fought each other. Kind of a lot. From what I understand, they messed up the planet a few times."

"Messed it up? What's that mean?"

"Tore it up to the point that most of the mortal creatures died."

"… Oh. Um, yeah, that's messed up."

"Anyway, a long time ago – and before you ask, no, I don't know how long – the leaders of the Elemental Clans called a truce and met together. They got tired of having to help rebuild the planet, so they hammered out a treaty, and each Clan was limited to one Domain, and took on some restrictions. One of those was that the Ifritts and the Naiads would stay totally-"

"Naiads?" said Anna.

"Water Elementals. Again, there are a lot of different kinds, but 'Naiad' is another catch-all name."

"Right. Got it."

"The Ifritts and the Naiads would stay separate. No trespassing. So the Naiads stay in the water, and the Ifritts stay where there _isn't_ water, and where it's hot."

Anna gave him a confused stare. "But … doesn't water pretty much get in everywhere, eventually?"

"Not in volcanoes."

She brightened. "Oh! Right, yeah, of course. Heh. No, I guess it doesn't."

"There are deserts that hardly ever get water, too. The Djinn like to live there."

She had a thought. "What about places where water _does_ come in contact with something hot? Like the steam vents in the Valley of Living Rock?"

"No-Man's Land. That's considered too wet for Ifritts and too hot for Naiads."

"Oh. So, who gets it?"

"The trolls, if they're interested, which they usually aren't. So, nobody. There aren't really that many Elementals, not compared with humans, and certainly not compared with the total area of the Earth. So there are a lot of unclaimed areas."

Elsa asked, "What about Air Spirits?"

"Zephyrs."

She frowned. "I thought a zephyr was just a name for a breeze."

"It's that, too."

"And one of the Greek wind gods was Zephyrus."

"… If you say so," he answered with a small grin. (He was feeling a lot better now that they were clocking along at such a good pace.) "but he was probably just a particularly powerful Elemental. The Zephyrs are invisible unless they don't want to be, and spend their time making cloudscapes and whatnot. They're the least scary of the lot. Though sometimes they'll lose their tempers over something, and then maybe create a storm. But really, they aren't supposed to." He sat up straight in his icy saddle. "Would you look at that! We reached the river already!"

Sleipnir stopped by the swift water, and Elsa gave Kristoff a look that very clearly said, _What now?_

"Okay, first, let's get to the other side."

"But you said-"

"I know. We need to find that island. It can't hurt to have two rivers between us and that Ifritt, though."

Elsa obligingly created an ice-bridge, over which Sleipnir quickly trotted. Then she let it disintegrate. "Which way?"

Kristoff thought that over for a moment before slipping off to the ground. He strode over to a large boulder sticking out of the riverbank and laid his hands on it.

Leaning back toward her sister, Elsa whispered, "What's he doing?"

"Like I know? Asking the rocks where the island is, maybe?"

Elsa kept her own counsel about that. In any case, Kristoff soon came back, a confident grin in place. "West."

"Okay, so … that way?" She pointed downstream.

"Right. Let's go."

They found the big scrub-covered outcropping a few minutes later and were soon huddled together on the island.

Elsa tapped Kristoff's shoulder. "There's something bothering me."

"About what?"

"This arrangement. You say we're safe. But how long can we stay stuck here? I do have a kingdom to run, you know. What can we do about this Ifritt? And by that, I mean, more or less permanently? We don't even know yet why he's chasing us."

"You, Elsa. He's chasing you."

She cocked up an eyebrow. "And you know this, how?"

He was silent for three heartbeats. "I saw the way he looked at you. Couldn't you feel the … the raw hatred? The … oh, what was that word? You used a word the other day; it was perfect. Mal-something."

"Malevolence?"

"That's it!" he said, snapping his fingers.

"But why would that thing hate _Elsa?"_ Anna wanted to know. "What'd _she_ ever do to it?"

"That, I can't say. No idea. But I'd bet real money that Ifritt wants her dead."

His statement exasperated the Queen. "Well, _that's_ comforting. And it doesn't answer my question. What can we do about it, to get it to leave us alone? I don't feel like spending the rest of my life – which might be shorter than otherwise – looking over my shoulder because some crazed Elemental hates me."

Mulling over that question, Kristoff finally said, "I wish I had a good answer for you. It's a shame I don't. But I _will_ try talking to it when it shows up."

Anna blinked at him, her mouth dropping open a little. "Whadda you mean, _when_ it shows up?"

"It'll track us. Elementals are really good at that."

"Then why are we just _sitting_ here?!"

"Because it can't reach us here. This is a safe position, okay?"

Pointing at Elsa, she asked, "Did you miss the part where she has to be able to run a kingdom? And what are we supposed to eat? We can't just stay here!"

"And we won't. But we need to talk to it first."

"Why?"

"It might be running on bad information."

"… Huh?"

"Okay … you know how Bulda gets sometimes? Or all the trolls, really. They got so excited the first time I took you to them because they didn't know … well, anything about you. About your situation."

"Yeah, they do kinda tend to jump to conclusions."

"That's a common Elemental trait."

"… Wonderful."

"I don't know. We'll have to see. But if we can defuse this whole deal by talking to it and finding out what it wants and maybe correcting a few of the things it's thinking, wouldn't you say that was worth the effort?"

Anna pursed her lips. "Okay. Maybe. But what if you can't?"

"Can't talk to it? I don't think that's a-"

"No. I mean, what if you can't reason with it? What if it just hates her?"

"Why would it?"

"I don't know! You're the Elemental expert!"

"I'm glad you finally admit that. We'll talk to it."

Anna threw her hands up. "Sometimes it really isn't worth the _trouble_ talking to _you!"_

"Heh. Now you know how I feel."

She gave him a severe glare.

Elsa asked, "How long?"

"Until it gets here? Hard to say. Probably not too long. And," he added, tossing Anna a look, "if I can't reason with it, we'll just retreat to the opposite side and outrun it."

"All the way back to the castle?" asked the Queen. "I don't think so. I'll not have that thing wreaking havoc in my city."

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times. "Okay, you've got a point there. We'll have to do something about it, one way or another."

"Besides," said Anna, "it obviously doesn't have any regard for human life."

"That's for sure. He was leading the attacking force and-"

"What?"

"Oh, yeah. I nearly blew him apart with rocks and-"

" _ **What?!"**_

That brought him up short. "Um, right, see, he was riding down to attack, waving a-"

"What do you mean, he was _riding?_ Riding what?"

"A horse. But he didn't look like an Ifritt. He looked human."

"…"

"Yeah. He was waving a sword and screeching like a banshee, and I spotted him and saw that he had on a fancy uniform, so I threw a couple rocks at him. Blew out his chest and knocked off part of his head. But that didn't kill him."

"… Wow."

"Yeah, so I hit him again. Tore off an arm. But he kept coming. Then I broke both his legs. That's when he started glowing. Then he broke free of the body."

Incredulously, Anna asked, "Can Ifritts … _make_ a body that looks human?"

"I don't believe they can. I was pretty sure they couldn't."

"So … it was _possessing_ that man?"

"That's what it looked like. But they aren't supposed to do that. The Compact-"

"Bother the Compact! This thing isn't playing by the rules, I hope you noticed." Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Are you dead sure it can't cross running water?"

"If it does, it'll lose its magic."

"And it's a creature largely _made_ of magic?"

"Uh-huh. That's true."

"So losing its magic … would kill it?"

"Maybe. Certainly it would be _really_ weak."

"And you're sure there's no way it can get around that?"

"I don't think so. You saw how the river scotched it after we crossed. I think that if it _could_ have crossed, it would have, being that close."

"Okay." She gave a short nod. "Okay. That's one advantage."

Elsa said, "We need some more."

"Like what?"

"I wonder how it would respond to ice magic being applied directly?"

"Huh." Anna gave her a sympathetic look. "You didn't have time to do that before."

"It … wasn't so much the time as the state of mind."

"Ah. Yeah. Right."

Kristoff asked, "Are you feeling better enough to concentrate on fighting it, if it comes to that?"

After chewing her lip for a moment, Elsa nodded. "I think so." Then she hesitated. "It doesn't have any blood, does it?"

"No, not as such. It's made of fire, so it doesn't really have a physical form. But then it isn't _supposed_ to be able to possess humans, either. And it was running that guy."

Both royals fought down goosebumps over that.

Elsa frowned and said, "Hey. Wait a minute." Meeting Kristoff's gaze, she asked, "How much magic can an Ifritt use?"

He shrugged. "Depends on the Ifritt. Djinns tend to be really magical. They can grant wishes, sometimes, or heal sickness. Lay curses."

"Could they cast a geas?"

His eyes widening, he just stared at her for a moment. Then he whistled. "Oh, man. You know … wow. Yeah, he could be the one behind all that. Wow. Okay, it's _officially_ time now to not underestimate him."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning we'll have to be wary of tricks. If he can cast a geas, he's _way_ smarter than average."

"Do you think he was making Weselton … um …"

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised."

Anna said, "Crap."

Elsa sat on a convenient rock and called up a large ball of blue magic. It stretched, elongated, thinned … then she was holding a long, blue spear. She tossed it to Kristoff. "Can you throw that?"

"Sure."

"Can you throw it like one of your rocks?"

"… Ahhhh … huh." He hefted it, then eyed a small tree near the other end of the island. Adjusting his grip, he took a couple of skipping steps forward and gave it a sharp heave. It rocketed the six dozen paces and skewered the tree, smashing it to matchwood.

"Whoa." Anna gave him three slow claps. "That's impressive."

He turned to Elsa. "You think these might … oh. Okay."

She was already busy making more of the spears.

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 _ **End Note: I'd be interested to hear a little conjecture on what's going to happen here. Will the Ifritt get there before Elsa can make enough spears? Will it try tricks, or a frontal assault? Is Kristoff's position that it can't cross running water reasonable? All comments welcome!**_


	17. Just What I Didn't Want

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 _Author's Note: I wrote much of this chapter while listening to songs from_ _ **Disturbed's**_ _eponymous album, so some of the weirdness isn't my problem. You've been warned._

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 **Chapter 16: Just What I Didn't Want**

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 _The Eastern Reaches of Arendelle, 25 June 1841, 7:40am_

"I hope that's enough."

Kristoff and Anna stood up from their small cooking fire and looked over at the Queen where she slumped beside a sizable pile of light blue spears. He asked, "How many'd you make?"

"Around a hundred. I might have lost count a couple of times."

He chuckled. "If we need that many, I'd say we have bigger problems."

"Hey!" objected Anna, "it's not like you're the only one who can chunk a spear, you know. With all of us throwing, we'd use 'em up in, like, a minute!"

Walking over to the pile, he picked one up and hefted it, then turned it sideways and under-handed it to Anna. Its weight surprised her, and she almost dropped it. "Well, shoot."

Elsa took one, staring at it intently, and nodded. "I can throw it. Not as hard or as fast as Kristoff, to be sure, but …" She took aim at a tree and let fly. It struck in the center of the trunk. The entire tree, and a bit of the surrounding ground, froze solid.

Anna's mouth dropped open. "How in the world could you-"

"It's ice." She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I can make it do what I want it to do."

"Totally not fair!"

"You could simply hold it and use it to fend off the Ifritt."

Shaking his head, Kristoff said, "That would be a last resort. You _really_ don't want to get that close to it. It would burn you to a cinder."

"Speaking of burning," said Elsa, "I think the fish is probably done."

Kristoff trotted back to the fire and lifted the three fish off the rickety supports, giving them a light squeeze and then nodding. "Good call." He held two of them out. "Breakfast is served."

They spent a few minutes devouring the catch, glad for Kristoff's skill with a fishing spear, and Elsa's ability to make one. Then they washed up in the swift water and moved back to the center of the small island, seating themselves on the chairs Elsa had created. Kristoff looked over their armaments. In addition to the spears, Anna had collected a large pile of smooth rocks for her fiancé while he was fishing.

Elsa's glance flicked between the other two. "You'd said it wouldn't take the Elemental long to track us."

"True. Getting impatient?"

"A bit. Waiting is never fun. But when you're waiting on the arrival of a supernatural being that hates you and wants you dead, it's a bit less fun than usual."

"Keep in mind that he had a river to cross. I don't know how he's been doing it, but I know he can't do it in his natural form."

Anna shuddered. "So … it's gonna have to … _possess_ somebody?"

"Most likely."

"Wouldn't that kill the victim being possessed?"

"I really don't see how it couldn't. Putting that much energy into a human body?" He shook his head. "Poor bastards."

Elsa wondered, "Could that be what has been driving Weselton these last few months? The Duke was silent through the last half of last year. He even sent a couple of delegations to try to reestablish relations."

"Ha," responded Anna with a snort.

"Well, yes, that was more or less my answer, too. Still, he was being, if not cordial, at least conciliatory. Then, suddenly, half-way through January, we begin to get wind of his trying to undermine our relations with our other trading partners. Those outrageous lies. I thought it suspicious at the time, but never really had an opportunity to study the base causes." Tapping two fingers against her lips, Elsa slowly nodded. "This would explain much."

"But if he was controlling the Duke, wouldn't he have to be in Weselton?"

"I would think so."

"Then how'd he get here?"

They turned to Kristoff, who held up his hands. "Hey, all I know is he can't cross water in his Ifritt form. If he's inside a human? I dunno. Maybe? I can't come up with anything better right now."

Anna asked, "Do you think he'd keep chasing us, even after that battle? I mean, his forces did kinda get squished. And now _he_ knows that _we_ know what he is."

His lips thinned as he shook his head. "No. Whatever has him so worked up isn't gonna go away on its own. Elementals are stubborn like that."

"Great," muttered Elsa. "Stubborn, hot-headed, and super-powered. Just lovely."

No one said anything for a minute. Then Anna perked up and whispered, "Someone's coming."

They all looked upstream. Presently they could see a pair of figures moving toward them through the trees. In another quarter-minute Elsa made out the uniform of her Guard and heaved a big sigh of relief. She stood and walked to the near bank, bringing up her magic in blue-white swirls around her hands.

A tap on her shoulder stopped her. She turned and gave Kristoff a frown. "What?"

"Wait."

His tone made her stomach clench. Dropping her gaze to his other hand, she found herself sadly un-surprised that he was holding some of the rocks. She turned her attention back to the two Guard trotting their way. The one in the lead waved and called, "Your Majesty! Thank God! We were afraid … well, never mind. You're safe, and that's what counts."

She waved back. "Thank you. Sven, is it?"

"Yes, Your Majesty! I'm flattered you would remember."

"I know all of you." Looking at the other one, she said, "Karl, right?"

He bowed stiffly.

Sven said, "We need to get you back to the castle, Your Majesty. I don't know where that … that _thing_ went, but you're not safe here."

Opening her mouth to speak, she stilled again when Kristoff touched her arm. He gave his head a tiny shake, then turned to the two Guards. "We have a bit of a problem. Maybe you can help us with it."

"Of course! That's what we do."

"Her Majesty strained her magic getting us here. If you could get over here to help, we need to get to the opposite bank." He pointed downstream. "There's a shallow spot there where you can cross, but the other side's deeper. It's going to take some teamwork to get the Queen and Princess to the other bank safely. If you would."

"Yes, Sir!" Sven ran to the short ford and waded over. Kristoff gave him an arm to help him up onto the island. They all turned to look at Karl …

His eyes glowed yellow, his skin already cracking, the interior light leaking through. In a voice like crushed pumice, he said, "I _will_ get you. You can't run from me forever. You won't-"

That's when Kristoff's first two rocks removed his head. Anna and Elsa ran to the pile of spears. Sven stood gaping at what he'd thought was a fellow soldier. Kristoff readied two more rocks …

The first time he had witnessed the Ifritt's transformation, it had been a relatively slow process. This time it was more in the way of an explosion. The remains of the Guard whiffed to ash as the Elemental burst upward to tower over the humans. Its screech left all their ears ringing. But then Elsa's first spear hit one of its 'legs' and it really _did_ let loose. The two women were physically knocked off their feet by the force of the sonic storm. But the Ifritt collapsed to one 'knee' as well, its keening cry putting their teeth on edge.

Kristoff flung two more rocks through what he perceived as its center-mass, then had to hold his ears and clench his teeth against the starkly unbelievable levels of sound. He scooted over next to Anna, picked up a spear, and heaved it.

This time the creature dodged. Swiftly it backed away, shrinking to an ember and disappearing.

Sven was the first to recover. He stepped up next to Kristoff and stuttered, "Wh-what was … was that … was that _thing_ the same one we fought off at the camp?"

"It was. And that 'thing' is a Fire Elemental.

"Where's Karl?"

"I'm afraid Karl's dead."

Sven blinked a few times, trying to absorb the information. "Dead."

Kristoff grimaced. "Yeah. The Elemental possessed him. And it, um, used him up. You saw."

"I don't even know _what_ I saw! That was Karl! He … he came and found me, said he knew which way you'd … oh." He worked his mouth a few times. "Wait."

"Uh-huh. I'm sure he _did_ know which way we'd gone. They're talented that way."

"But why did it possess Karl? Why did it want me to go … to …"

"It can't cross open water. It was probably hoping you'd get the Queen to cross over to the bank so he could get to her. It wants to kill her."

"But … but he looked so … normal. Hell, we shared a pouch of dried cod!"

"He's fooled a lot of people before you. At least we think so."

"Damn."

Elsa spoke up. "Did we kill it?"

Considering her question briefly, Kristoff shook his head. "Doubtful. It made a tactical retreat, more like."

"So it'll be back?"

"Count on it."

Anna said, "Well, crap."

"So what do we do now?" asked the Queen. "I don't relish the thought of staying here. And it's on the other side from where we want to go, and it doesn't have a human body now." She gave him a stricken look. "Poor Karl. That thing killed him. Oh, Lord! I hope it doesn't find any of the other Guard!"

"… So do I. For a lot of reasons. But if it's gonna continue following you, it will either have to go far enough up the mountain to get around the source spring, or possess someone else." He huffed a sigh. "I'd _like_ to get back to Grandpabbie and tell him about this thing. It's breaking the Compact, and I _know_ there are penalties for that. Otherwise, he's risking war. And nobody wants that."

"Are you sure?"

"Huh?"

"Are you positive it doesn't want a war?"

He turned to Elsa, considering her question. A sour expression came to rest on his face. "Actually, no. I'm not. Already this Ifritt isn't acting quite sane. Maybe he IS aiming to start a war. In which case, his King needs to know about it."

"Great," complained Elsa. "So how do we go about contacting the King of Fire Elementals?"

"I don't have the first clue. Something else to ask Grandpabbie."

She didn't say anything for a bit. Her next words came very softly. " _Can_ it be killed? Is that even possible? You say it's made of flame, and it obviously doesn't like ice magic very much, but-"

"Yes. No creature is truly immortal, though some of them give it a good try. If we can hit it with enough of your magic, it ought to-"

"Someone's coming," said Sven.

They all looked north. Several figures could be seen through the trees.

Anna asked, "Is that the rest of the Guard?"

"I can't tell yet." He frowned, squinting in the early light. "Um … no. I don't think so. We don't carry pikes in the field, and I see two of 'em."

"Maybe that's what's left of the force that came with the Ifritt."

"That," muttered Kristoff, "would be bad."

The small troop stopped about a hundred and fifty paces away. Elsa counted twenty-six of them. They stood in a line, not moving, for close to a minute (long enough that Anna wanted to scream at them) before they unlimbered longbows and nocked arrows.

"Get close to me!" shouted Elsa. As soon as they were all within arm's reach, she threw up a wall of ice.

The first wave of arrows came in. About half of them hit the ice, exploding on contact. Suddenly her wall was a sorry mess, and Anna's arm was bleeding from getting pelted with ice shards.

"Damn!" yelled Sven. "Your Majesty, if you can't make your wall a lot thicker, we'll have to run for it!"

Kristoff ducked out from behind the remains of the wall and chucked a couple of rocks. He saw one of the archers go down … then slowly get to his feet again. _No! Has that stupid Ifritt turned them into homunculi? We can't fight those!_ Two more rocks made contact, with similar results.

"Kristoff? What … what are they? Are they human?"

"Maybe once upon a time. But if I can't take 'em out …" He glanced at the spears, then at the women. Elsa had re-made and reinforced the wall, placing two more layers slightly in front of it. He nodded in approval. "That should keep us safe from shrapnel, anyway. For a while.

The next volley of arrows rained down, and more of them hit this time. The noise was of a different timbre than the Ifritt's screams, but no less deafening for that.

Hefting a spear, Kristoff took aim and chucked it. As with the rocks, it picked up speed (a lot) before skewering one of the archers. He froze solid, and didn't move again. "Okay. That worked." Quickly he took out another of them.

The rest of their attackers dropped their bows and knelt, then lay out flat.

"What are they doing?"

"Beats me. Not being a target, maybe?"

The Ifritt sprang into being behind them, waved its arms, and pounded its 'fists' into the earth. A hazy field of red sprang into being in front of the archers, who then got up and readied their bows.

Kristoff threw another spear. This one, though, burst into a huge cloud of steam when it struck the red barrier. That translucent wall began moving slowly toward the island. He swore, and turned to Elsa. "We have to get out of here! If that wall gets here …"

"Can it cross water?"

"I have no idea. Probably, or the Ifritt wouldn't have bothered with it."

Turning to stare at the moving wall, she concentrated, then threw both hands up. A line of huge blue spikes of ice grew out of the ground in front of it. But when it touched them, they immediately melted. Elsa muttered an oath of her own. "Okay. Let's go." She trotted to the other side of the island and called up a short bridge. They all ran across, after which she dispelled it. "Kristoff, do you think Grandpabbie could fight this thing?"

"Better than we can."

"Okay, which way?" She re-created Sleipnir, to Sven's slack-jawed amazement. They all climbed aboard and waited on Kristoff's direction.

He took a couple of deep breaths. "We could do it one of two ways. The quickest way, probably, since we've got good transportation, would be to head east a little way, then turn south. We'll get to the Valley of Living Rock in about two days, give or take. But that's making some assumptions about the existence of reasonable trails. Or we could go west until we get around the main mountain range, head south, and then peel back east a bit. That would take maybe three days, but we'd be certain of having reasonable roads most of the way."

Elsa nibbled her lip only a moment before deciding. "Let's take the shorter route. The quicker we get to Grandpabbie, the better. We need answers. Besides, going the other way would take us too close to Arendelle city, wouldn't it?"

"We'd be within sight of it at one point."

"Right. I'm not letting that thing threaten my city. It's following me, so going through the mountains will keep it away from my people. Mostly."

"Let's get going, then."

Sleipnir kicked it into gear and was soon tearing up the ground, heading east.

Twelve minutes later, the zombified archers made a human bridge to the island, then another to the other bank. One of their own walked across their backs, his eyes glowing yellow.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _End Note: So now it's a race. Twelve minutes isn't much of a lead, but they're already moving a lot faster than the Ifritt. For now._


	18. Cornered

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _Author's Note: I'm sorry for the delay in getting this posted. Real Life has been quite the witty little bitch lately._**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 17: Cornered**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _The Far Eastern Reaches of Arendelle, 26 June 1841, 8:00pm_

The fugitives discovered shortly after leaving the island that the beings chasing them could move with frightening speed. Though they were able to stay ahead of their pursuers, it took constant motion. They tried stopping for rest once. It was only seventeen minutes before they were dodging arrows again.

Several hours of that – and guiding Sleipnir around obstacles and over ever more broken terrain – took a toll on Elsa, and the lack of discernable trails didn't help, either. Kristoff had said he'd know the right trail when they got to it, but either he wasn't quite as good as he thought, or the right trail just hadn't made an appearance yet.

They had no way of knowing what the Ifritt had done to the former soldiers, but apparently it made them immune to fatigue as well. They ran. They sprinted. They climbed. They crawled. And they didn't stop. Ever.

By mid-afternoon, Elsa, in desperation, had instilled a rudimentary intelligence in the giant horse (something she'd told herself she would only do as a last resort) and turned over the reins to Kristoff. At present she was wedged between him and Anna, leaning her head against her sister and snoring softly. Sven's back provided Anna with something to brace against. He kept a constant vigil to their rear.

Anna reached forward and tapped Kristoff's shoulder. When he glanced back at her, she mouthed, "What are we going to do once the sun sets?"

He looked up at the scattered overcast and sighed. "You'd best wake Elsa. Get her to make as many more of those spears as we can carry." Gesturing at their ride, he added, "I'm sure she can create something to hold them, too."

"Okay. Fine. That's great and all, but …" She waved in the general direction of their pursuers. "Can you get all of _them_ before they skewer _us_ with those exploding arrows?"

"I guess we'll see, won't we?"

"That doesn't fill me with confidence."

"That wasn't my aim." Seeing a short, flat valley stretching out before them, he turned part-way around and held her gaze. "We're going to fight as hard as we can. You know that. But this is an Elemental creature of flame, who seems to have some major magical abilities that I never heard of and couldn't anticipate. I'm not gonna hand you some lame platitude to ease your mind, when I know damn well our chances aren't really that good."

She grew a bit paler.

"Sweetheart … I'd love to be able to tell you that everything will turn out okay. But that might be a lie, and I swore I would never lie to you about anything." He reached back and gave her hand a squeeze. "I can promise you that I will protect you with all the strength I can muster, with my last breath, my last drop of blood. But I won't lie to you."

Anna's hollow eyes tore at his heart. He turned back to watch where they were going.

Sven said, "I think he has the right of it, Highness. We'll have to fight."

After a minute, after she tamped her panic down, Anna said, "Elsa? You need to wake up."

Incoherent mumblings answered her.

"Elsa, seriously, we need you to make more spears."

"A'ready made a hunnered." She squirmed and positioned herself against Anna's other shoulder.

"Those things are going to catch us."

Elsa blinked twice, sat up straight, and turned to look at her sister. "What?"

"We're just barely keeping ahead of them, and we'll lose the light in a little over an hour. Even if Kristoff can find the trail, we won't make it to the trolls before it gets dark. And we can't see in the dark." Jerking a thumb over her shoulder, she added, "I'm betting the Ifritt can, though."

Three breaths passed in silence. "Then we'll have to find a place to make a stand."

"Yeah. Probably."

Elsa got busy making spears and placing them in long quivers down Sleipnir's sides.

They rode for another half-hour, then Kristoff got their attention and pointed. "See that mountain there?"

They all looked off to the east, at the conical shape he indicated.

"See how steep the sides are?"

"Yeah," answered Anna. "Really steep. So?"

"The top looks small. Defensible."

"Sure, if we could get up there."

He got Elsa's attention. "Think you could make a path up the side of that slope?"

She considered his question for a moment, then nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. It's a good idea." Giving him a tiny smile, she said, "That plan might just save our skins."

It took them twenty minutes or so to get to the base of the mountain. By then, Sven reported that he could see the Ifritt in the middle distance.

Kristoff groused, "Son of a bitch sure can move."

Elsa's icy road sprang into being ahead of them. Sleipnir mounted the path. They made good time up the side, Elsa being careful to dispel the path behind them. They were nearly to the top when their enemy got to the base, and they caught something on the wind that might have been laughter.

Sven said, "I only count five of the archers."

The other three looked with him. After a few moments, they all concurred. "I wonder," said Elsa, "what happened to the other twenty."

"You think they're coming at us from the other side?" worried Anna.

"No." Kristoff shook his head emphatically. "If they had that much of a lead, they would have simply attacked us."

Sven offered, "Maybe they wore out."

The other three looked at him. Elsa pulled lightly at her chin. "Maybe they did. Kristoff, didn't you say a human body couldn't long contain the Elemental's heat?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure. But he's not in them." He pointed. "He's right there."

"But his magic was in them. It had to be."

"Huh. I guess so. Well," he said, reaching for a spear, "either way, five are a lot easier to fight than twenty-five."

. . .

Standing at the bottom of the conical mountain, gazing up at the peak, the Ifritt nearly crowed at this turn of good fortune. He could not have planned it better himself. And as he stood, watching the remnant of his sprites assay the climb, his mind wandered over his upcoming triumph, and the rewards he was sure would be his.

In the domain of the Ifritts, names were not just names. They also served as titles, descriptors … even punishments. Surtur, the Fire Lord. Alliarra, Mistress of Magma. His own previous name, Khaalaash, the Hammer of Heat, leader of a Triumvirate. It was a name he'd been proud of; a name he could trade on.

His no longer. No, his infatuation with Alliarra, and subsequent actions to acquire her for himself, had led to that name being stripped from him … led to his exile to a small, nearly extinct volcano near the coast of what would eventually become the Duchy of Weselton. No more was he Khaalaash, the respected and feared. Now he was merely Dodge, the Cringer, the least and lowest of all Ifritts.

. . .

The fugitives gained the top of the narrow mountain, and stopped for a moment, staring across at the weird rock-scape.

"It's flat," observed Anna.

Kristoff nodded. "Close to it. Slopes up a little from here, but, yeah. Mostly flat." He jumped down off Sleipnir and laid his palms against the stone for a moment. "Huh. I don't feel any magic."

Elsa started. "What? You can feel magic, too?"

"Earth magic. I was trying to see if the top had been leveled, you know, by unnatural causes. But it wasn't."

"Odd. I find the lack of vegetation odd as well."

"Yeah. We're still a long way from the tree-line."

"Your Majesty," said Sven, "we need to get into a defensive position.

Snapping back to their current dire straits, the Queen shook her head and agreed. "Kristoff? If you would, see if you can reduce the number of the whatever-they-are that are following us?"

He grabbed a few spears and trotted back to the edge.

. . .

Dodge. They had named him Dodge. The one who shirks responsibility. The one who runs from battle. Had he possessed teeth, he would have been grinding them.

He had dwelt on the thought of his shame, day after month after year after decade after century, until it had driven him half-mad. But what could he do? All Ifritts owed allegiance to one and claimed fealty from another. The Fifteen Oligarchs swore to Surtur, the Fire Giant, the oldest of them, and by far the most powerful. Each Oligarch commanded the devotion of a Triumvirate of powerful Elementals, and each one of the Triumvirate headed a line of twenty to a hundred Ifritts of one specific type. Dodge was a Calidan, a Guardian of the Mantle, and before his demotion had personally overseen Mount Vesuvius, one of the most storied volcanoes in the world. He had led seventy-eight powerful Elementals. The indignity of being stripped of his rank and parked in an ancient, dormant shield volcano, a spot barely hot enough to deserve the name, had festered in his spirit until it abscessed.

Grimly, he directed the remaining sprites up the rocky incline.

He would have his name back. He would.

. . .

Kristoff whistled. "Those things don't climb like men. More like squirrels. Or spiders."

"Ew!" This from Anna.

Sven took a spear himself and leaned over the decline. "Damn. Right about that. They're … jerky. I don't think I could hit one, unless I just got lucky."

"Wait a minute, then. Let 'em get closer." Kristoff hefted a spear and took aim.

"You ain't waitin'."

"I don't have to lead my target." He grunted as he let fly.

. . .

The year before, Dodge had learned of the existence of the Witch of Winter, and a plan to recapture his lost honor soon formed in his diseased mind. He had been storing up power for more than seven hundred years, hoarding it, concentrating it, and he marshaled it to aid him in his quest. Possessing the French tourist, and then the Duke, hadn't cost him much. He was still near his assigned volcano, and had been able to maintain the shell for months. But crossing the ocean? Two whole days out of sight of land, getting farther from his station every minute? That had cost him dearly. Once in Scandinavia, he could no longer keep his internal energies so tightly contained, and burned through his possessed bodies quickly.

Using the remainder of the mercenaries as templates for his sprites was much less of an energy outlay. He didn't have to worry about them burning out, and the drain on his system was minimal. Nevertheless, five had perished getting him across that river, and he had needed to reabsorb most of the rest of them during the chase.

A sting in his mind brought his attention abruptly back to the present.

. . .

"Hah! Take that, you son of a bitch!"

Kristoff's target had become a chunk of ice frozen to the side of the hill. The other _things_ didn't slow at all, or even seem to notice.

"Bloody undead."

Elsa came up to stand beside them. She saw that one of the four left was well in the lead, close enough that they could pick out the flames where its eyes should be. Leaning over, she shot a blast of ice at the mountain in front of it, spraying it with a sleet storm. It lost its grip, tumbling back down, down, down what had to be fifty or sixty man-heights, before landing on a sharp ridge of rock and breaking cleanly in two. The pieces whiffed into ash.

Sven whispered, "Shit."

Kristoff zeroed another, then another … then, accompanied by a roar from the Elemental, the final one simply vanished. A second later, a sheet of flame came screaming up the slope, forcing them all back.

. . .

They dare? They would _dare?!_ Madness! They all have to die. They must _know_ they couldn't beat him! Why did they still resist? Stupid, illogical humans. Almost more trouble than …

No. The death of the Winter Witch would win him his honor. That was worth any amount of trouble.

He studied the conical mountain. It wasn't _his_ volcano, but it hadn't been claimed by anyone else, either, being mostly dormant. He could use it. But it would take power.

Drawing the flames into his body, he stood instead in his magma form: roughly humanoid, but about twice as wide as a man, and with skin of cracked and glowing obsidian. It wasn't quite the frightful apparition, didn't bring quite the same reaction of fear, but it was certainly durable enough. Concentrating, he placed a fist against the rock.

. . .

Sven squinted. "Where'd it go?"

"It's still there," said Kristoff. "Just not glowing."

"Is that a good thing?"

"How would I know?"

"… 'cause you know all that other stuff?"

"Well, this ain't in the list."

Elsa asked, "What's it doing?"

"It's hard to tell at this distance."

A tremor ran through the hill, jostling small rocks loose.

Suddenly concerned, Elsa asked, "Kristoff, did you do that?"

Giving his head a quick shake, he grunted, "No," and then laid his palms against the ground.

The next tremor was much more pronounced, and lasted for a count of five.

Anna gripped his arm. "Sweetheart? What's going on?"

"I think the Ifritt is-"

The whole mountain shifted. All four of them swayed and fell, catching themselves awkwardly. Several rough columns of basalt jutted up out of the earth, one of them knocking Kristoff away, blood flinging from a deep gash across the left side of his face.

Screaming, "Kristoff!" Anna jumped back up and took the two steps to his side. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! Kristoff, can you hear me? Say something!"

He blinked slowly, focused on something over her shoulder, and yelled, "Look out!"

Hot, jagged rocks sprayed everywhere as the Ifritt rose up out of a cleft in the ground not thirty paces away.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 ** _End Note: So now they don't have anywhere left to run. It seems choosing a volcano as their redoubt of last resort probably wasn't the best idea._**


	19. Trespass

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Author's Note: I apologize for the lengthy hiatus. Very little of it was anything I had any control over, and the rest was either Real Life raising its ugly head, or my having to work on things I'd already promised someone. In any case … here is the penultimate chapter. Hang onto your hats, if you got 'em._

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 18: Trespass**

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _The Eastern Border of Arendelle, 26 June 1841, 9:10pm_

Kristoff shook his head, wiped dust off his face, rubbed the blood out of his left eye, and glared at the Ifritt. _Not on my watch!_ Placing both palms flat against the trembling stone of the mountain, he concentrated. The stone under the Ifritt's feet split open; the Elemental windmilled its arms and tumbled back into the hole. _Ha! Two can play at that game._

Both women descended on Kristoff, Anna screeching, "Honey! Are you okay? You're bleeding!"

"I'll live." Again he wiped at his face, wincing in pain. _That's gonna leave a mark._ He relaxed into it when Elsa placed a cooling palm against the cut.

The Queen said, "I get the idea it doesn't want to talk to you."

"Oh, you think?"

His fiancée was not mollified. "You're bleeding! Kind of a lot."

"Head wounds bleed. We can stitch me up after-"

But the ground began to shake. The hole Kristoff had made yawned wider. On a column of dull-red magma, Dodge rose up out of it. His raspy voice sawing at their ears, he said, "You will not escape. You cannot win. You will die. I will have my-"

Kristoff's first two rocks blew through its midsection. It staggered and released another of those deafening screams. Flame shot from the holes left by the rocks.

Elsa stood and wove her hands around each other, coalescing her power into a dense sphere that she then launched at their foe. The Ifritt ducked, but the ball of ice magic swerved toward its head, exploding in a cascade of icicles that stuck in its 'skin' briefly before disappearing in vapor. Its agonized yells got, if anything, louder.

Sven, who considered himself to be well out of his depth in this melee, nevertheless took that opportunity to chunk one of Elsa's spears. It hit the Ifritt in its right leg, which promptly froze solid and snapped off with an audible CRACK.

The ground in a double-dozen places groaned open, spilling lava in thick streams. All four humans could feel the intense heat; Elsa froze the nearest eruption, then the next nearest, before a quake knocked her off her feet.

Kristoff had yet to regain his feet, so he couldn't exactly fall. He threw a rock. Another. Two more.

The Ifritt, pounded back and nearly dismembered, disappeared into the magma. Over the next eight or ten seconds the quaking tapered off and ceased.

They were all panting. Anna turned back to Kristoff. "Dare I ask if it's dead?"

He took a deep breath, then one more as Elsa resumed cooling his gash. "No. I don't think physical damage could kill it." Glancing over at Elsa, he said, "Pretty sure your ice magic is the only real option we've got. We just have to keep it busy or distracted enough to-"

They had no warning. The ground under them all but exploded. They flew in four directions. When Anna didn't move after hitting the ground and rolling a few times, the others did not immediately notice.

Dodge, renewed by his bath in the lava and drawing power from its heat, regained his fire form. Raising his arms, he created a ball of flame and threw it at Kristoff, who barely rolled out of the way, his shirt smoking. Against his chest, his fire crystals began glowing brightly.

Sven got back to his feet and hefted a spear, but had to dodge another fireball before he could throw. Two more drove him to the edge of the scarp where he ducked behind a boulder.

Elsa tried to freeze the ground around their enemy, reasoning that if he couldn't get power from the lava, he might be weak enough to overcome. But her short flight across the stone had skinned her arms and rattled her, and her aim wasn't very good. Just good enough to draw Dodge's attention.

She deflected his next fireball with a wall of ice, but the heat as it passed was painful. The one after, she met with a huge snowball of her own. Suddenly the area between the combatants filled with dense clouds of water vapor.

Kristoff had managed to get more blood in his eye, and it affected his aim. Only one of his rocks hit the Ifritt's back, and that just a glancing blow. More fireballs came his way as the Elemental turned on him, snarling. This time Kristoff raised a wall of rock, and the fireballs just bounced off.

His fire crystals glowed brighter still, bright enough for the light to leak out around the seams of his shirt.

Elsa had edged around to where she could see past the (dissipating) clouds, rolling up another ball of ice magic. As soon as she had a decent shot, she took it.

Dodge fell over forwards and caught himself on his one unfrozen arm before sinking back down into the molten rock. He would NOT be denied! He would end this NOW!

Anna was fuzzily blinking her eyes open when the earthquake struck. Geysers of lava shot out of the ground all over, and she just managed to move out of the way of one. A couple of small splashes set her dress on fire, but she stamped it out.

Kristoff … was not so lucky. He screamed as his left arm took the brunt of one attack.

" **KRISTOFF!"** Anna sprinted to his side, jumping the small streams of lava that were steadily getting bigger. Seeing that his jacket was on fire, she quickly wrenched it off him, not noticing that much of the skin came with it.

The glow from his fire crystals was now obvious through what was left of his shirt. Anna blinked in confusion …

Sven, having caught his breath, popped up and surveyed the area. He noted Anna and Kristoff to one side, and the Queen to the other. Anna seemed to be tending to her fiancé, so he pounded feet over to Elsa, two spears at the ready.

He never saw the giant hand of fire that reached up out of the ground to crush him.

Elsa, though, did, and screamed, "Sven!" He jumped aside as she threw her magic at the hand, freezing it solid. Another came up just behind her. The heat from the thing alerted her to its presence, and she whirled and froze it, too.

The stone on which she stood suddenly rose, tilted, and she found herself scrambling for purchase.

Anna, finally realizing what she was seeing, nearly recoiled from the leaking flesh of Kristoff's grisly arm. "OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod! Kristoff! Your … your …"

The pain was beginning to make itself felt. With an effort, he staked his claim on his consciousness, tried to focus on the fight. Anna and Elsa were his to protect, his responsibility …

Sven tried to get an angle on the Ifritt. It was about as far away as he thought he could throw a spear. Then he was dodging lava flows. Gradually, the blazing heat pushed him toward the edge. He thought, _Didn't I JUST do this_ _? ..._

Elsa materialized a shelf of ice below her on the slope, and stopped sliding. The rock now stood at some fifty degrees from horizontal, with her a good two man-heights above the surrounding plateau. She looked around warily, wisps of blue magic hiding her hands …

Dodge sprang up with a gout of lava behind Elsa's perch and gave it a mighty blow with both fists. It cracked off at the ground and both it and Elsa flew (again) through the air. She was able to create a pile of snow to land in this time, so the impact was soft. The impact of a flying piece of stone with her head, however, was not. She sprawled out, unconscious.

Dodge cackled in insane glee, stepped up out of the lava, and strode purposefully in Elsa's direction. But then …

Kristoff, concentrating solely on his role as protector and doing his best to ignore the incredible pain of his burn, gained his feet and yelled, "NO!"

… Kristoff's shout distracted Dodge.

… The fire crystals blazed.

… His form was covered in garish yellow light.

… Anna stumbled backward.

… Grit and gravel from all over the small plateau streaked through the air toward Kristoff.

A few seconds later, Kristoff was sprinting toward the Ifritt, pelting rocks for all he was worth. His left arm was the color of dark stone. So was the left side of his face.

Dodge howled in rage and sank his fists into the ground. Lava streams appeared everywhere. In the Ifritt's near vicinity, the molten rock rose to form walls.

Kristoff found that his stones could not penetrate them. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he slapped both palms to earth. _Lava's made of rock, right? I can control rock. Stands to reason I can control lava, too._

This, it must be said, was not a situation Dodge had anticipated. Suddenly he was fighting this sub-creature for dominion over his _lava!_ It was not to be borne!

The battle raged in near-silence for half a minute. Dodge pulled more and more power from the magma; Kristoff's fire crystals were glowing so brightly no human could look at them. Kristoff pushed the walls into the earth; Dodge re-created them. Dodge sent the walls toward Kristoff; Kristoff pushed them aside.

But experience will tell. Dodge was able to keep Kristoff's attention on two lava walls while building up pressure just beneath him. With a loud boom, the stone under Kristoff's feet split, hurling him away. He smashed into a boulder and crumbled to the ground, stunned.

Anna, meanwhile, had seen Elsa go down, circled around to where she lay insensate, and dragged her away from the Elemental. She found a sort of shelf, out of direct sight, and hid the two of them there.

That tactic didn't really work. There weren't many places to hide, and Dodge could feel where they were anyway. He strode over, ripped the top off the shelf, knocked Anna away, scooped up Elsa's body, and held her high, shouting "Lord Surtur! I have a gift for you!" Elsa's ice dress began rapidly to melt.

That was when a great, jagged stone smacked into his back, tearing open a long gash and bowling him over, which caused him to drop Elsa. Anna scrambled back to her, gasping out, "Please don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" She cradled her sister close, crying freely.

Dodge pulled up another wall of lava to protect himself from Kristoff's rocks, and then began growing, and growing, to three normal man-heights. He called the lava from the entire plateau, bringing it rolling toward Kristoff …

But the trembling stopped, and the lava flows faded away to nothing.

… _What?_

Dodge just stared dumbly, his gaze switching between his hands and the ground. Why wouldn't the lava obey him?

The plateau near him began to melt, to bubble up.

Kristoff was searching for more rocks, as he'd exhausted the local supply, and didn't yet see the phenomenon that was so puzzling his enemy.

In Anna's arms, Elsa's eyes fluttered open. She hissed at the many patches of tender skin, reddened where the Ifritt had held her. Then she and Anna jerked and cried out as the ground beyond Dodge erupted with skin-cracking heat. She created a dome of ice over herself and Anna.

Kristoff watched in open-mouth disbelief as a truly gigantic Fire Elemental shot out of the ground and glowered down at Dodge. Then it spoke. "You worthless fleck of ash."

"My Lord! I have brought you the Winter Witch!"

"You have brought me annihilation, you idiot."

"… What?"

"Who told you to attack the Avatar of Boreas?"

"I … but … I wanted to … regain my honor … and …"

"How? By bringing down destruction on all our race?"

"… I don't understand."

Surtur pointed to where Elsa crouched under her ice. "You would assault the Avatar?"

Dodge looked over and did a double-take. "She's still alive?"

"For which we may thank Providence. Think you that her Masters would simply let that _pass?_ Mindless dolt."

He stared, dumbstruck, at Surtur, then squeaked out, "Masters?"

"Listen well, you smoke-sucking moron: Fire cannot overcome the Cold. It never could. It never will."

"But … but …"

"What do you think came first? What do you think will be left after the end of all things?"

"… . . . … End?"

"Yes. The End." He held up a fist. "Cold. Numbing, blasting, biting, everlasting, all-consuming Cold. The Cold is eternal … preeminent. The Masters of Cold have deigned, for their own reasons, to gift this human with a tiny portion of their might. Do you think they did that on a whim? How often has the Cold created an Avatar? Do you have any idea?"

"… I …"

"Once every two or three thousand years. Always they have a purpose. I have watched. Oh, yes, I have seen their gifted ones. The plans are subtle. Boreas plays a long game, even by my standards. You think yourself immortal, but you are not. All of us, the Elementals, will age and pass. But Boreas? He is eternal. He nor his folk will ever die. They can't. They watch, and they see, and they know." He reached down and grabbed the smaller Elemental by the neck. "They know what you have done. I can feel their anger. It grows even now. Can you not sense it?"

Indeed, a frigid wind had kicked up while he spoke. There seemed to be a distant shimmering in the darkening sky, subtle whisperings of things no mortal had a prayer of understanding.

Lifting the hapless being until they were nose to nose, Surtur said, "You think they couldn't kill us all? How long do you suppose our race would survive if every volcano was frozen, every desert buried in ice? You think they couldn't do it?" Surtur shook him like a rat. "Fool. _Fool's_ fool! The Cold cannot be overcome. It cannot even be withstood. You think to regain your honor through this folly? No." The massive head wagged back and forth. "No. You lost your honor through a lack of proper respect for your place. And now you leave us all in peril." He snorted, clouds of ash and smoke filling the air. "Such stupidity as yours needs to be culled from our people."

"No! My Lord, I meant no …"

"What you _meant_ matters not; the only thing of significance is what you have _done_. Results matter. You have breached a peace we have kept with Boreas since the last time his people covered this land with ice more than a league thick. They _allow_ us to tend our fires, to build up the mountains, move the seas, slide the lands past each other. They do not have to." Surtur brought his other hand up and gripped the top of Dodge's head. "They could turn this world into a solid chunk of ice, and there would be nothing we could do about it. The Cold rules all. You should have heeded my warning to stay in your dome and mind your affairs. Now … now you will pay."

Dodge gave off an eerie, keening wail as fire erupted from his body, funneling into Surtur's hand. He shriveled and shrank, his skin taking on an ashy gray cast. When the last spark had extinguished, the giant held up Dodge's body and called to the sky, "Boreas! Take what is yours by right of vengeance!"

Nothing happened for the space of three breaths. Then Dodge's body floated up off Surtur's hand, floated up and up until it looked like a child …

From every point of the horizon, icy blasts struck, the Cold a physical thing as it consumed the Elemental that had had the temerity to attack one of their own. In seconds, it was over.

Surtur, breathing hard, rubbed his arms and re-ignited the flame on his head. Then he stared down at Elsa and Anna. "Lady Avatar."

"… Lord Surtur."

"I would beg your forgiveness, but I can see that you hold no animosity toward me."

"Ah … well … certainly none of that … was _your_ fault. Why would I blame you?"

"Indeed. Fascinating. You are a surprising person, Elsa of Arendelle. Boreas chose well this time." He sank back into the earth, the glow fading with him.

Anna jumped up and ran, calling, "Kristoff!"

Slowly, painfully, Elsa got to her feet and limped after her sister.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _End Note: Just a few loose ends to tie up, then we'll be done. What did you think of Surtur's explanation?_


	20. Loose Ends - Part I

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 _Author's Note #1: Has any of you ever been hit by a bus? Run over by a car? Struck by lightning? Have you fallen through a rotten floor? Been thrown from a bicycle? Gotten a second or third-degree burn? Unless you can answer in the affirmative, you probably won't be able to empathize with what Elsa's little troupe is feeling. I hope you never get the opportunity._

 _Author's Note #2: This was supposed to be a brief wrap-up of things, a way to tie off the story nice and neat. Well, it didn't work that way. As FREQUENTLY happens, the characters took over the keyboard, and this "little denouement" turned into a massive, 11,000-word sequel-starter. So I've broken it up into three parts, which I will post today, tomorrow, and Wednesday. And I apologize in advance for all the questions it's going to raise. Couldn't be helped._

. . .

. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 19: Loose Ends – Part I**

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. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 28 June 1841, 10:15am_

Doctor Odum studied the unusual limb lying on the examination table in front of him, blinking in confusion for a few breaths, and finally looking up to catch Kristoff's eye. "And … it doesn't hurt?"

"No."

"Fascinating." He tapped a finger on the dark-gray forearm. "Move it again for me?"

Kristoff clenched and relaxed his fist, flexed his elbow, rotated his wrist. The limb made subtle _schissh-click-fwisshh_ noises as it moved.

Picking up a steel probe, the doctor asked, "May I?"

"Be my guest. If my knife wouldn't cut it, that flimsy thing sure won't."

Dr. Odum pressed the tip of the probe into Kristoff's palm. It skittered across, just as if the substance were stone. Just as if it were exactly what it appeared.

"So … what do you think? Can you help?"

"Fascinating."

"Yeah, I guess, if it's not _your_ arm."

The doctor glanced up at Kristoff's face, pointing at the new addition to his profile. "And this reacts the same way?"

"Kinda. It's a little more … flexible, I guess. Still stiff, stiffer than the skin around it. Like an old scar. Petter cut his face open on a flying chunk of ice about four years ago, and it didn't get tended to for a while. We were three days out, if you pushed hard, and with him laid up, it took five. Healed up off-center, you might say, and it's real rough." He touched the dark scar on his cheek with his right hand. "Not quite as stiff as this, though."

"I see. So." Dr. Odum leaned back in his chair. "And the facial scar was a result of a deep cut, while the arm got burned very badly?"

"That's right."

"Fascinating."

"I wish you'd quit using that word."

"Sorry." He rested his elbows on his desk, and his chin on his fists. "This is unique in my experience."

"Mine, too."

"I don't know, my boy. If this is more of that Earth-magic you picked up recently, your, ah, family might be a better source for a cure."

"We would've gone there first if they'd left it up to me. But Elsa pointed our ride at Arendelle and just conked out."

"Your party did make quite a stir when you came in sight."

"Hmm. Whatever. Hell, if she'd made the thing that _big_ , and let it go that _fast_ the first time around, we wouldn't have been in that fix at all. Must have been going thirty leagues an hour." Frowning, he followed that with, "No. It was probably faster. It got us back to the castle …" A glance at the doctor's clock confirmed his guess. "Yeah. About twenty-four hours ago. Damn." He crossed his arms, then grimaced at the rough feel of his left arm against the right.

"It seems rather intelligent, certainly as intelligent as Olaf. I would think you could have reasoned with it."

"Ha. It was all we could do to hang on while it galloped, and the damn thing wouldn't listen to me, and Anna wouldn't let me wake up her sister." A snort preceded, "Hah. If she even _could_ wake up. Getting bundled into the castle didn't do it." He glanced upward, in the general direction of the royal suites. "How's she doing?"

"Resting, which is what she _needs_ to do for a few days. I put salve on her burns, and on the cut on her head, and the contusions on her limbs. She will be extremely sore for a while, but should make a complete recovery. Fortunately, none of the burns was third-degree. Unlike that poor Guard. He won't be walking soon." Blowing a disgusted breath, he muttered, "Seems like magic continually makes this job harder than it needs to be."

"Tell me about it."

Focusing again on Kristoff's arm, the doctor asked, "What about sensation?"

Kristoff's expression darkened. "That's why I want this gone. I can feel extreme temperatures, sort of, and pressure, if it's heavy enough. That's about all." His mind wandered to Anna, to her soft skin and softer lips. He wanted to be able to caress her with _both_ hands. Even more, he didn't want to see revulsion (or worse, fear) in those matchless teal-blue eyes. She hadn't said anything yet, but he'd caught her several times staring at the arm, and she would blink her eyes away when she noticed him noticing.

"Well, it certainly appears functional enough. You can pick things up with it, yes?"

"Oh, sure. If you don't mind having 'em crushed."

"… Beg pardon?"

Kristoff looked around the doctor's office, zeroing in on a bed-pan. He walked over and picked it up (with his right hand), turned to Dr. Odum, and asked, "Are you particularly attached to this?"

"Ah … well, no. I have several, and that one leaks. I was going to take it to the tinker."

Transferring the bed-pan to his left hand, he gave it a slight squeeze. The heavy-gauge pewter snapped and crumpled like parchment.

Jerking back with a small yelp, the physician's eyes bugged. "Good Lord!"

"Yeah."

"It didn't look like you had to strain to do that."

He gave his head a shake. "I didn't. And what if I do that to Anna's hand or arm while I'm helping her up, or off her horse or … or _anything?_ What then? Hell, I could _kill_ her with this thing!"

"I begin to see your interest in, ah, _correcting_ this state of affairs."

Flumping into his chair, the blond raked fingers through his bangs and let his head bump back into the wall. "Doc … I can't lose her. I can't. She's my world. You just don't know."

"Oh, I might. Just because my wife and I have been married for a quarter-century doesn't mean I can't recall the fire of new love."

Kristoff didn't answer, only holding his left arm up to stare at it for a few seconds, then letting his eyes slide shut in frustration. _No. You don't know. You really don't._ How could he explain that in his position as Guardian, his need to protect Anna had grown to an intensity to rival his love for her … even if that meant protecting her from himself? Even if that meant never touching her again? Neither did he dwell on the fact that, while Grandpabbie had told him about King Erik the Bold, the human Trollfriend who last wielded fire crystals, Kristoff had never learned what eventually became of him. That suddenly seemed like a very important thing to know, and was going to be one of his questions when next he met with the old troll.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _North-eastern Arendelle, 28 June 1841, 1:20pm_

"I don't like this," murmured Tad.

Jackson snorted, "I didn't _ask_ you to like it."

The two men sat their horses in the dense shade of a stand of mighty oaks, thickets of rowan making up most of the understory. Here, some four hundred paces from the village, they were effectively invisible.

Tad pointed out a large, white mound in the center of the village. "Wanna bet that's some o' her ice?"

"Yeah, so? So she left 'em somethin' they can use to cool down in the heat. Big deal."

Scoffing, Tad replied, "You already forgot about those monsters? 'cause I ain't."

"A big hill o' snow ain't a monster."

With a quick glance back at the not-quite-score of men behind them, Tad countered, "We lost better'n fifty men. _Fifty_ , Jack. And if it took her more than a slow count of ten to kill 'em all, I'll eat my saddle."

"Fine. You wanna stay up here and starve, I got no problem with that. Me an' the boys need to eat."

"Can't do much eatin' if you're dead."

"It's a pile of snow! How's it gonna kill anybody?"

"I had a belly-full of the Ice Witch's magic." Tad turned his horse and meandered back farther into the shadow. "Right now, all I need to do is get the _Hell_ out of Arendelle, brush off the dust, and never set foot in this blasted land again."

"Yella."

"If you come back from attacking that village, I'll accept that. But I don't think you will."

The rest of the men were listening closely. Four of them still nursed wounds from the white beasts that had devastated their ranks. None was in the mood to run afoul of ice magic again.

Jackson turned to them, raising his voice slightly. "I'm gonna go get me some coin and somethin' to eat. Who's with me?"

Six men spurred their horses forward, slowly forming up behind him.

"That's all? Really?" He shook his head and chuckled. "Buncha pansies."

"Like I said," answered Tad, "you make it there and back in one piece, I'll wear a yellow badge. Be glad to do it. Only I don't think I'll have to."

"Watch and learn, pup." The seven spun and rode swiftly down to the edge of the village.

Tad and the remaining eleven men moved up to the verge of the wood, following the smaller group's progress.

Jackson raised his voice and his rifle.

One of the doors opened, and a white-haired old man emerged to stand on the tiny porch. They exchanged words for a handful of breaths. The Elder shook his head vehemently and pointed down the road. Jackson leveled his rifle at the old man.

Some … _thing_ … shot out of the side of the mound of snow. Something long and white and thin. Something that flashed in the midday sun for a tiny fraction of a second before it hit Jackson.

The top half of the man fell off the horse.

Instantly panicked, the half-dozen left wheeled their mounts and spurred them like mad.

It didn't help.

Tad cringed and fought down his gorge as his former companions were diced, punctured, or pounded into paste in a matter of a few seconds. One of those behind him did retch. Another said, "Which is the shortest way out of this God-forsaken Hell-hole?"

Tad watched while the snow-hill rose on six stout legs, extended a long neck, and busied itself picking through the slaughtered men. After a couple of deep breaths, he said, "East. Over the mountains, into Norway."

"Great." Silently, they all rode off in that direction.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Guard Infirmary, 28 June 1841, 5:45pm_

The door squeaked loudly when Greta used her hip to push it open. The noise roused Sven, who looked over at her blearily.

She set the tray down on the tiny bedside table and took the cloth off, pushed a lock of her wavy black hair behind an ear, and said, "Hey, Sunshine, time to eat."

The smells made Sven's mouth water. He struggled to sit up, wincing and giving a muted hiss as he re-positioned his burned leg and foot. _Lost a damn good pair of boots to that flamin' monstrosity. Worth it, though._

"Here, let me help." She leaned him forward, pulled the pillow out from under him, and plumped it against the headboard. Easing him back against it, she was careful not to touch the two broken fingers on his right hand. He was next presented with a bowl of savory stew, whereupon Greta readied a spoon and said, "Open wide."

Ordinarily he would vehemently protest having someone else feed him, but this was a special case. In the first place, Sven was horribly right-handed, basically unable to do much of anything with his off hand, including managing a spoon. In the second … any chance he had to gaze into those wide-spaced, deep-green eyes was a chance he took.

He ate in silence for a minute or so. A pair of crisp buns accompanied the stew, and he _was_ able to use his left hand to dunk them in the spicy sauce. Mostly, though, he just let his eyes wander around Greta's face.

Her cheeks took on a slight rosy glow at his inspection. At length, she asked, "Is there something on my face?"

Quickly, he said, "Sure is."

"Really?" She sat up and touched a cheek. "What? Where?"

"Amazing beauty. And it's all over your face."

Her blush intensified remarkably. "Y-You, sir, I judge to be too ill to be making such remarks."

"One is never too ill to speak the truth."

She nearly dropped the bowl.

"Greta?"

Her eyes met his for a tiny instant.

"Do you remember what I asked you four weeks ago?"

A pause. A short nod.

"You said you'd consider it. Have you given it any thought?"

Another brief nod.

"Is that why you volunteered to feed me?"

"What? I … who said? … volunteer? … what do you … I don't …"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Greta turned away and covered her face with her hands, sure that she sounded intensely stupid. After half a minute, she turned back and drew a deep breath. "See … well, Princess Anna came by."

"The Princess? Came by where?"

"The barracks. You know that's my usual round, that and the Infirmary."

"Yeah." He grinned. "I know."

She fought down her blush. "Well … see, half the men were away – you were one of them – protecting the Queen while she did her magicky thing. But there were still nearly a hundred in the barracks. The Princess came in and … told us all. About what happened." Another deep breath. "She said you were a hero. Said you saved the Queen's life."

"Hah. Not by myself, I didn't. That'd be the Ice Master."

"She said you'd say that."

"… Um …"

"She said you hit that monster. With spears. Said you fought it."

"We _all_ fought it!"

She showed him a subtle dimple. "She said you'd say that, too."

"Well … um …"

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes. You can court me." The blush was back full force.

His grin threatened to crack his face in half.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Queen Elsa's Apartments, 29 June 1841, 8:30am_

"Elsa?"

"… nng …"

Anna moved a little closer to the disheveled lump on the bed that marked her sister's location. "Elsa? Honey, you need to wake up."

A muffled, "… no … uh don't," worked its way out.

The Princess had to laugh at her. "That's my line, Sis. You're the bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed one, remember?"

Elsa budged a little, moved her right hand up to rub her face, then groaned in pain.

Laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, Anna asked, "Hurts?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Where's it hurt?"

"… Ever'where."

"Really?"

"Everywhere. Hurts everywhere. Everything hurts."

"I'm sorry."

Elsa opened one eye. "Why? _You_ didn't beat me up." Both her eyes flew wide. "Anna! Your face!"

"Yeah, yeah. I should have ducked. Rub it in."

"What … what happened?" She reached a trembling hand toward her sister. "… How …"

"You were kinda preoccupied with getting burned and tossed around like a rat at a terrier convention."

"Tossed? … uh … There at the end? When it grabbed me?"

"Yeah. It ripped the top off that rock we were hiding behind, and knocked me out of the way." Gingerly she touched the splotchy, purple bruise covering most of her face. It was liberally sprinkled with scabs of various shapes. "At least it didn't break my nose. I think."

Her hand dropping to the bed, Elsa moaned, "Oh, Anna! I'm so sorry! I didn't want for you to be dragged into-"

"Stop it. Stop right there. You didn't drag me anywhere. If you'd _tried_ to leave me here while you traipsed all over Arendelle, I'd have broken out and followed you anyway. So just hush. Besides," she added with a puffy, lop-sided grin, "I've done worse than this to _myself_." She lightly moved Elsa's bangs aside. "We're in this together. Better or worse, peace or war, pain or love. Together."

Her sister gave her a crooked smile of her own, and said, "Together," and winced.

"Really hurts, huh?"

"Didn't Dr. Odum … have something for pain?"

"Yes, he does. But first I've got some fish stew here, and you have to eat. And if you can stand it, you need to get to the privy."

"I … don't think I need to. We didn't eat anything for most of a day, then after the fight I think I … might have sort of lost consciousness a little." She swallowed. "So, no, I don't need to go. That soup does smell good, though." Wincing again, she admitted, "Don't think I can sit up."

It took a couple of slow, careful minutes, but soon Anna was smoothly feeding her sister the nourishing stew.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle Courtyard, 01 July 1841, 11:00am_

"Elsa, I don't know where you got the idea, but this is a cool contraption. Who would have thought to put wheels on a chair?"

"Since you ask, quite a few. There's a company in Avalon that sells them." She patted the arm of her contoured ice chair. "Of course, theirs are made of wood and metal."

Anna stared at her. "… No kidding? For how long?"

"Several decades, in their case."

"Why haven't I ever heard of one?"

"Maybe because you've never had a need for one?"

"I sure could've used one when I was nine and cracked my leg. They wouldn't let me get out of bed for three solid weeks. I was _sure_ I was gonna lose my mind."

Elsa leaned back, letting the morning sun bathe her face. She wiggled her fingers, her magic making a subtle adjustment to the headrest, and sighed happily. Suppressing a giggle, she countered, "It may be that Papa didn't _want_ you to know about them. Just imagine what sorts of trouble you could have gotten up to with a wheeled chair."

Opening her mouth in indignation, Anna raised a finger, paused, tapped her chin instead, and finally shrugged. "You might have a point. They did eventually take my velocipede away."

"After your third wreck. Or was it the fourth?"

"The fourth one _you_ heard about."

That made Elsa laugh … and then groan. "Oh … my ribs."

"Sorry, El. I'm not trying to-"

"I know, Sweetie, I know. I'll need to shelve my sense of humor until some things heal."

"Now _that_ would kill me."

 _SNERK!_ "Ow! Stoppit."

"Ugh. Sorry, again. You deliver such great straight lines."

They were silent for a few breaths before Elsa perked up again. "I meant to ask. Where's Kristoff?"

"That's a darn good question."

"I figured he'd be in the Infirmary. I know you said he managed to heal that horrible burn somehow …"

"Eesh. Don't remind me." Anna covered her face, shook her head. "I'll never get that image out of my mind."

"I can imagine." Lightly, she patted the Princess's arm. "I just thought … well, he got beat up worse than I did, as far as I could tell. I know he's tough and rugged and so on, but still."

"I saw him once yesterday, in the South Hall, for about ten seconds. He mumbled some kind of excuse and ran off."

"Are you _sure_ he's not back in the Infirmary?"

"Doc says he's not. Doc says he's fine. No broken bones, not even any bruises. And, yeah, I agree with you about him getting beat on worse than either of us. Or Corporal Ott."

Closing her eyes and doing her best to relax, Elsa said, "We'll need to have ourselves a knighting, as soon as I'm strong enough to hold the ceremonial sword. For both of them."

"You know Sven's gonna limp, probably, for the rest of his life, right?"

"That hardly disqualifies him from knighthood. He helped save my life. If he hadn't slowed that thing down with a spear, I don't-"

"I'm not disagreeing! Just sayin' you might want to wait until he can walk, sort of. That burn on his lower leg looks nasty."

Elsa made a _hmh_ noise. "Right you are. I'll have to talk to Dr. Odum about that." She observed Anna for a bit and said, "You keep looking back at the castle."

"Do I? Um … I didn't realize …"

"You hungry?"

"… Maybe."

Suppressing another painful chuckle, Elsa answered, "Why don't you wheel me over in the general direction of the dining room? It's not too early for lunch, and I've got some fasting to make up for."

"That's right! The doc said you need to eat more while you recuperate."

"Well, then, don't let me stop you."

Anna wasted no time getting them back inside.


	21. Loose Ends - Part II

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 _Author's Note: Now that things have calmed down some, do you think, perhaps, that Elsa will be more open to reestablishing relations with Weselton? Let's find out…_

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. . .

. . .

 **Chapter 20: Loose Ends – Part II**

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. . .

 _Valley of the Living Rock, 01 July 1841, 4:00pm_

Grandpabbie was waiting on Kristoff when he got there. The two stood there for a moment, Kristoff giving the old troll a pleading look, Pabbie staring at the man's arm.

Pabbie spoke first. "To answer your first question, no, I can't return your arm to its former flesh."

Kristoff slumped and muttered, "Damn it."

"I can teach you how to use it, though."

"Oh, I can _use_ the damn thing just fine! As long as what I want to do is crush things to a pulp!"

"And that's what I can help you with."

"… How?"

"You know we are made of rock, correct?"

"Um … well, yeah."

Pabbie picked up a stone from beside his feet, held it out between them, and crushed it to gravel with a squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. All trolls are that strong. But … with each other it doesn't really matter, does it? You hardly _ever_ come into contact with humans. But I could seriously hurt Anna with this!"

"We need to be that strong, to move through earth and rock as we sometimes do. We learn very early how to compensate for that strength in our everyday lives."

"Huh. Okay. Sooooo … does that mean I'll be able … I mean, will it be safe for-"

"Of course. When you finish with my training – this time – Princess Anna will be in no danger from you."

Kristoff let go with a long breath. "When can we get started?"

"Right now, if that's okay with you."

"Right now is perfect."

"When did you last eat?"

That seemed an odd question, but Kristoff shrugged and said, "Maybe an hour before noon."

"You should eat now. These learnings are going to take a lot of stamina at first."

"Oh. Okay. Uh … how long …"

"Until you are ready. I cannot give you a day."

"Sure, sure. But are we talking days or weeks or months?"

"Likely weeks. With the control you already have, I'd say surely not more than two months." He patted the man's arm. "We will get a message to the Princess. Fear not."

"She probably won't be happy with me." That brought on another thought, and he frowned. "That also means I won't be there to protect them."

"True. But the major threat posed by that Ifritt is no more. They should be safe for the time being."

"Can I … that is, can you send someone to watch? Watch over them?"

Pabbie rubbed his jaw. "Perhaps. I will ask." He started walking toward his cave. "First, you eat."

Kristoff trotted to catch him up. "I, uh, also had a question about that King."

"Erik, yes. I expected that, since you didn't learn much the last time you were here. And I have an answer for you."

"Am I going to like it?"

"That's up to you."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle, 17 July 1841, 11:00am_

"Maybe," offered Elsa, "they'd intended to come for my birthday and got the date wrong." The celebration in question had taken place the previous Wednesday. The city was still sort of winding down from it.

Crossing her arms, Anna huffed, "All I'm saying is that Weaseltown has a lot of nerve, just showing up here like that."

Elsa patted her hand. "I can't believe that the Duke is on the ship. He wouldn't put himself in such a position of weakness after what he's done. Besides, it isn't a war-ship. It poses no threat. I think you were a little precipitous, having it bound and guarded like that."

"After all the lies? The attacks? The murders? He bloody well _ought_ to expect it."

"I wouldn't dream of arguing that point. Still, I'm curious to hear what they have to say after sailing in as bold as brass the way they did."

"And I'm curious to see how long they can float in the fjord without a ship."

"Anna!"

"… Sorry. He just makes me so mad!"

"Well. I won't argue that, either. Still, I think we should …"

A sharp rap sounded on the Receiving Room door. Elsa said, "Come."

One of the Royal Messengers stepped in, strode rapidly up to the Queen, and held out a folded piece of parchment. "Your Majesty."

She reached to take it, but Anna stopped her. "Remember those gashes?"

Dimpling slightly, Elsa corrected, "Geas. And yes, you've got a point." She conjured a pedestal of ice and directed the Messenger to place it there.

Once they were alone again, Elsa used judicious chunks of ice and breaths of wind to open the note. She and Anna looked at it closely.

The Princess observed, "Don't see any of those weird markings like they talked about."

"It's a simple letter of introduction." Elsa read for a bit. "My word. I wasn't aware that the Duke had a niece."

"Me neither."

Elsa gave her a pained look.

With an elaborate sigh, Anna corrected, "Neither was I."

"Thank you."

The letter occupied only one page. They finished the missive and looked at each other.

"Well," said Elsa.

"Huh," said Anna.

"If nothing else, this sounds promising."

"She's definitely taking the right attitude about stuff."

"I believe I'll invite her up for a … let's call it a conference."

"With guards. Lots of them. Heavily armed."

Elsa rolled her eyes.

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _12:30pm_

There was no fanfare. Tall, spare and proper, Teresa Margaret Elena Morgaine Clade arrived alone. She advanced between a brace of the Queen's Own Guard, walking with a stately pace that didn't disturb the hem of her green velvet gown. With her long, dark hair swept back in a large bun at the nape of her neck, she moved up the geometric center of the room, stopping an excruciatingly correct seven paces from the Queen of Arendelle. She swept a low and flawless curtsy, and stood with her hazel eyes demurely downcast. "Your Majesty. The Court of Weselton sends its felicitations and regards."

"The Crown of Arendelle recognizes you."

"Thank you for speaking with me. I wasn't sure you would." Her eyes flickered up, widened considerably, and dropped back down. "Had no reason to _believe_ that you would."

"If I may ask, given that condition, why did you come at all?"

She did raise her gaze then, staring at Elsa with an unreadable expression. "I … I …" She swallowed hard and collected her wits. "I wanted to convey my gratitude in person for the way you responded to my Uncle's naval attack."

"… Oh?" It took the Queen a few seconds to add, "How is that related?"

"My cousin Arthur was one of the Captains."

Elsa's eyes darkened. "Was he, indeed."

The Duchess lowered her gaze again. "Your Majesty, I don't know how I can fully express my mortification for … recent events."

"Did you have a hand in directing it?"

Eyes flashing wide, Teresa held her hands up at shoulder height. "No! Oh, _Heavens_ , no! I was dead set against it when he first changed."

A frown. "Changed?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. He was … there were these …" Huffing in frustration, she took two slow breaths. "I am afraid the background of events for … all this violence … is rather more than complicated."

Elsa regarded her solemnly, and said, "So, a long story."

"Quite."

"Perhaps we should move to a more comfortable setting."

Her expression brightening, Teresa answered, "That would be much appreciated."

A dozen minutes later the three women were seated around a low table while a trio of servants unobtrusively distributed tea and pastries. Once they had left, Elsa raised her teacup, took a sip, and asked, "Complicated in what way?"

Her focus darting between Queen and Princess a few times, then lingering on Elsa, Teresa drew a steadying breath and began. "When we left your coronation, Uncle James was most exercised. He-"

"Whoa," said Anna. "We?"

"Um … I was with him. He thought it would be a good idea for me to come along. With all the secrecy around Arendelle over the past decade, he felt that the more eyes available for observation, the better."

"Why didn't he introduce you?"

"… You must understand. Uncle James was very fond of me, and I of him. But I was his last living relative closer than third cousin. He was … protective." She looked at each of them, seeing that they didn't get it. "I was in disguise. He said it was for my own safety. I was acting as a sort of _charge d'affairs_. I stayed in the background." Again her gaze rested on Elsa for a second, flicking rapidly over her features. She colored slightly. "I … got to see most of the coronation while staying anonymous."

"Hmm."

"He-"

"Where were you during the Freeze?"

"In the castle, with the rest of the visitors." Teresa paused a moment to see if Elsa meant to say anything else. When she didn't, the tale continued. "He spent the entire trip home telling everyone on board that you were … dangerous." She nibbled her lip briefly and said, "Now, _I_ didn't think so, but, um …"

"Yes. He had made that statement a few times, though I believe his specific term was 'monster'. It was what led him to direct his bodyguards to kill me."

"And I would like to thank you also for not having him executed for attempted regicide. You would have been fully within your right to do so."

"Had I known he was going to prosecute an undeclared war against Arendelle, I might have done exactly that."

"Except he wasn't."

Anna said, "Except he did."

"Well … I'm about eighty percent sure he didn't really mean to."

The Princess yelled, "Are you freaking _kidding_ me? He hired _mercs!_ They wiped out a _village!_ They tried-"

"Mercenaries were hired, yes. I realize that. But … well …" Her voice broke. "Please let me show you something." Teresa placed her reticule on her lap, opened it, and withdrew a thin sheaf of papers. Holding it in one hand, she said, "A week after we … we returned, he, ah, sent several spies to Arendelle."

Elsa set her teacup down with rather more force than necessary. Some of it sloshed out. "I knew it!"

Teresa looked near panic. The words _tumbled_ out of her. "He expected you to lose control again and he wanted some proof to back up his suspicions but that's not what happened at all!"

"Really."

"Reports …" _swallow_ "Reports began filtering back to Weselton about three weeks later. It would have been sooner except that the spies wanted to be sure they weren't being led astray in their assumptions." She picked up the top sheet, cleared her throat twice and read, " _'General public opinion seems to be a feeling of disgust for how the Princess-now-Queen was treated as a child. Also a widespread fascination with her magic.'_ And then a few days later: _'Queen Elsa wasted no time in making positive changes in the tax code.'_ Following that were several reports concerning the high regard with which the average subject of Arendelle held-"

"Citizen."

Teresa blinked at her interruption and then a tiny smile broke through. "Yes. I was getting to that. You reestablished the Alderman system that your grandfather experimented with, only you took it a good bit further." She shuffled the papers and set one on top. " _'Queen Elsa has engaged the entire population in the legislative arm of government. She seems to have taken a page from the United States Constitution, at least where the concept of democracy is concerned.'_ "

"Not exactly. It's a pragmatic approach. It applies only to internal affairs, and communications between the populace and the Crown. I can hardly be an effective ruler if the people dislike me."

Shuffling to the next page, their visitor said, "This is from one month later. _'The degree of loyalty the people show to the Queen is really quite astounding. It's as if the entire kingdom loves her.'_ This was the last communication from this particular spy. We later determined that he had taken a job running accounts at one of your warehouses. He had no desire to return to Weselton, preferring your form of rule."

A bit of color tinged Elsa's cheeks. Teresa happened to be looking right at her, and drew a sharp breath. Her face flamed; she quickly turned back down to the papers.

Anna noted her reaction. A tiny line appeared between her brows as she processed what she'd seen and heard so far. She watched Teresa carefully.

"As … as the weeks went by and the spies' reports continued in this vein, Uncle James got more and more introspective. Two more spies defected; we only discovered that after learning that their, ah, their _families_ had relocated to Arendelle. The rest began to encourage him to, um, to adopt certain of your practices."

"So are you saying," asked Anna, holding up a hand, "that he invaded Arendelle out of _jealousy?_ That's stupid!"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. As I said, he didn't … well, he didn't _mean_ to."

"You're gonna have to explain that one, 'cause it doesn't make any sense at all."

"I will." She pulled another paper out, only this one was parchment. "I worked with him on this. He wrote it in mid-November." She handed it over.

Anna craned her neck to read over Elsa's shoulder. After a couple of minutes, Elsa dropped it into her lap and said, "I must agree with Anna. This makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. It was only in late November that he started circulating those horrid lies about me! Yet this letter is about as _conciliatory_ as such a thing can get!"

Her voice small, Teresa said, "I believe I have an explanation."

"I certainly hope so."

"About … three days after he wrote that – he was going to have one of the Heralds transcribe it into an official document, but that hadn't yet happened – I went to his rooms to talk with him about …" Her eyes caught Elsa's for half a second. She stiffened slightly, her cheeks taking on a deeper tinge. "But … um … that's not important. Anyway, when he opened his door, he looked at me suspiciously, as if I were a stranger. I … had to remind him who I was. He seemed to remember all of a sudden. I asked him if he wanted to go over the letter again, because the Herald was ready to start … well. He looked at me …" She drew a long breath through her nose, eyes closed. "I beg your pardon. Uncle James had been like a father to me these last eight years since his younger brother, my father, died in a naval battle. Now I very much fear that his mind was going. Some kind of senility, at least. It was so sudden. It's been really … difficult."

"What has?"

"His being so distant. He went from warm and affectionate to … he just … he shut me out."

Anna jerked at that statement, stifling a gasp.

"He told me to destroy the letter. Said that he intended to conquer Arendelle and that … that you, Your Majesty, had to die."

Elsa was beginning to suspect something. She said, "I believe I comprehend what's going on."

"You do?"

Anna blurted, "That Ifritt!"

Nodding, Elsa said, "I'd say it got involved personally a bit earlier than we'd thought." Then to Teresa, "Can I assume that the Duke is dead?"

That surprised their guest. "Ah … well, as to that, we assume so. He disappeared. The last anyone saw of him – and I did some extensive interrogation – was the evening of the fourth of June, when he had a meeting with the Commander General. I'd assumed that he must have wandered off and forgotten where he was, and met with an accident. But now you're saying …" She glanced between the two Royals. "What's an Ifritt?"

"We'll get to that in a minute. I have a couple of questions first."

"… Okay."

"Did you see the Commander General after their meeting?"

"Ah … no. Our paths don't cross regularly."

"Is he still there? In Weselton?" She was almost sure what Teresa's answer would be.

"Oh! No, he's not. He left the next morning. As of four days ago, he'd not returned. Why? Is that important?"

"Definitely."

"But …" She sighed. "Okay. Why?"

"Tell me, did anyone happen to notice evidence of a fire in the Duke's chambers?"

Teresa's mouth fell open. "How in the world …"

Anna pounced on that statement. "That's it! Elsa, you're right! It was that Ifritt all along! The Duke never did anything!"

Still focusing on Teresa, Elsa asked, "What did you find?"

"Ah … well, there was … this is the next morning, the fifth of June, you understand."

"Yes. Go on."

"The maid noticed the smell when she opened the door. Not really strong, but like badly burnt meat and hot metal, she said. We could find no evidence of Uncle James, but the curtains were singed and there was a dusting of fine ash in front of the window." Again she insisted, "How did you know that? What am I missing? And what's an Ifritt?"

Cocking her head and giving Teresa a keen look, Elsa asked, "How much do you know about magic?"

"Um. Very little, I'm afraid. I didn't really even believe magic _existed_ until I saw you … um, what, uh, happened at your coronation." She paused, frowning. "Is an Ifritt some kind of magic spell?"

Elsa nibbled her lip for a bit. "I'm trying to decide how best to explain this."

"… Okay."

"There are magical beings. Rather a lot of them. They fall into four – well, five, that I know of, but there may be more – broad categories. Each one is associated with one of the ancient Elements."

"What, like fire and water?"

"Yes. Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. And another I'd not suspected: Cold."

"Cold is an element?"

"Well, no. It's more complicated than that. Anyway, an Ifritt is a Fire Elemental."

"And you think this … magical _being_ had something to do with Uncle James's disappearance?"

"I'm sure of it. It came to Arendelle, led a force of mercenaries that were all paid with Weselton coin, and almost managed to kill me."

Teresa sat back in her chair, stunned. "Wow … . . . … I mean it … wow. So … so how did it make Uncle James do those awful things?"

Elsa and Anna glanced at each other. Anna said, "It most likely possessed him."

"… _Possessed_ him? Like, some kind of demonic thing?"

"Sort of. More like, it pushed his soul out and just used the body. That's the best we've been able to come up with."

Her mouth opened and closed twice; Teresa shook her head and stared past Elsa's shoulder. "So … so you're telling me … that wasn't even Uncle James?"

"Almost certainly not," agreed Elsa. "It was the Ifritt inhabiting and using his body."

Their visitor shivered violently and hugged herself, a few tears escaping. "Dear God." She looked up at them. "Are there _more_ of those horrible things?"

"Um, the short answer is 'yes'. But generally they keep to themselves. This one, the one that hated me so much, was a definite departure from the norm." She and Anna exchanged a look. "They've got a hierarchy. The leader of the Fire Elementals … um, how much do you know of Norse legend?"

She had to blink a little at that. "Rather a lot, to be honest. Why?"

"The leader of the Fire Elementals is Lord Surtur."

Teresa wasn't entirely sure how many more shocks she could take. "The _Fire Giant?_ Asgard's enemy?"

"Actually, the whole 'Asgard' thing is probably just a human interpretation of certain facts that are too complex for mortals to entirely understand. But, yes, Surtur is the Fire Giant of legend. When he found out what that rogue Ifritt was doing, he, ah, killed him."

"… Killed."

"That's what it looked like. He sucked all the fire out of him, then gave him over to the Powers of Cold. There was nothing left."

With a shaky hand, Teresa drained the rest of her tea and then held three fingers against her forehead. "This is rather a lot to take in. The one consolation is that it _wasn't_ Uncle James doing all those awful things. I do thank you for that."

"You're welcome." Elsa indicated the letter in her lap. "So do you intend to follow through with the offers stated here?"

Focusing on the Queen, Teresa slowly nodded. "Yes. I _did_ help him write it. I thought they were good ideas then, and I still do."

"Very well. Do you have standing as a Ducal representative? I'd assume so or you wouldn't be here."

"Actually … I'm the Duchess now."

"Oh, indeed?"

"Uncle James had one son. He died of a fever five years ago. My father was next in line, but he was killed in battle, as I said before, so succession passed to his children. I had two brothers, James and Theodore."

" _Had?_ Not 'have'?"

"Correct. They are no longer among the living. They were very, ah, competitive. We never really got along. After Alan died-"

"Alan?"

"Sorry. My cousin, the Duke's son. He was a fine man. Would have made an excellent Duke."

"Ah. Go on."

"When Alan died, James knew he was next in line. He became insufferable, acting as if he already possessed the Dukedom, treating everyone except Uncle James as inferiors, and being the most egregious sycophant to Uncle. It wasn't long before everyone who came in contact with him despised him." She gave a resigned sigh, fidgeting with her skirts. "I know that's a terrible thing to say about one's brother, but it's the truth."

"How old was he?"

"Eighteen."

"And he'd reach majority …"

"At twenty-one. But Uncle James was in reasonably good health, so it would likely be years before he became Duke."

"And he's your … older brother? I don't recall that you said."

"Yes, by eleven months. And Theodore was ten months younger than I."

"My goodness. That's rather close together."

"Yes. And my mother wasn't strong. She died giving birth to Theodore."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"I had excellent nannies. It's not as if I ever really knew her."

"I see."

"So. James alienated everyone, including me." Her lip curled briefly in disgust. "He was very … _open_ about his plans to marry me off to the first peer who offered him enough money, even though he knew I didn't … I mean the very idea …" Sighing again, she sat straighter and continued, "No matter. About four years ago he started getting sick and weak. The physicians couldn't find the cause. He had no fever, but lost his appetite and began losing weight. They tried everything they knew, but nothing helped. Over the course of a month, he became bedridden, barely able to lift a finger. Finally, one of the physicians began to suspect poison. His food and drink was carefully watched, and before long it was discovered that Theodore was the one poisoning him."

"His own _brother?"_

"By that point they _hated_ each other. To be fair, James had mentioned more than once that it would be to his advantage to get rid of Theodore, so it was partially a preemptive self-defense. Also, Theo would have made a much better Duke." She leaned back and rubbed her eyes. "I never wanted this."

Anna reached over and took her hand. "I'm sorry you went through that."

"Thank you. Well … James was too far gone by that point for an antidote to help, even if Theo had been inclined to tell them what was in the poison … which he wasn't. James died two weeks later."

"What became of Theodore?"

Teresa's mouth twisted. "Uncle James had a fairly rigid view of the law. Theo was tried, convicted of murder, and hanged. His last words were that if his death could keep a monster like James off the Ducal Seat, it was worth it. And he bid me a long and happy reign."

Elsa took her other hand, giving it a squeeze.

After a glance down at their hands, a quick, sharp breath and then a couple of longer ones, the Duchess said, "So … so when Uncle James vanished … well. The Duchy couldn't do without a leader. He was declared legally dead three weeks ago, and I was elevated to the title." She unsuccessfully fought her rising blush.

The Queen of Arendelle could well appreciate her position. "And then you had this mess to clean up! I'm so sorry!"

"I'll admit that I was dreading this meeting." She gave Elsa a watery smile. "You have been … _so_ much more than gracious, and I thank you very deeply."

"It would be horrid of me to hold you accountable for others' actions. I believe we can safely dispense with the trade embargo. I know a few merchants who weren't happy with me over that."

"There are many in Weselton who would welcome a return to trade as well."

Anna ventured, "You're twenty-two, right?"

"Yes."

"So, same as Elsa. Hardly an old maid."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry. Got ahead of myself. You'd said earlier that James wanted to sell you off."

"Oh! Yes." Her gaze flicked to Elsa for an instant. "Yes, he did."

Anna chose her words carefully, her keen eye on Teresa the whole time. "But you're the Duchess now. You can pick your own husband, at your leisure. You've got plenty of time."

Teresa gave her a blank look and a couple of slow blinks. "Um … sure. I suppose that's true. If …" She closed her eyes. Sniffled.

Elsa leaned closer. "Duchess? Is there something we can do? You seem quite distressed."

Picking up on Elsa's proximity, Teresa leaned back fractionally. "No. Thank you. You've been more won-wonderful than I could have hoped." Her head turned. Another sniffle escaped. She withdrew her hands to clasp them at her waist and in a shaky voice said, "I believe the trip has been rather fatiguing. If you don't mind, I'd like to return to my ship to rest."

"Nonsense. We have a suite of rooms designated for visiting dignitaries. You really must stay with us here."

"Oh. Um … very well. If it's not too much trouble, I left a couple of ladies-in-waiting on the ship. If you could …"

"Certainly. I'll send someone for them immediately. And any of your personal effects you'd like to have."

Teresa blinked away tears and bit her lip. In a slightly strangled voice, she said, "Thank you. You are too kind."

"Not at all." Elsa rang a small bell. When the guards came back in, she said, "Would you please ask Kai to attend to the Duchess of Weselton? She is to be given every accommodation."

"Yes, Your Majesty." He hurried off.

Turning back to Teresa, Elsa could see that she was holding her composure by the thinnest of threads. Stepping over and taking her hands again, Elsa murmured, "The stresses of the day have fatigued you. We would love to see you at dinner, but I will understand if you would rather sleep. Travel is frequently difficult, and this trip must be especially so." She gave Teresa's fingers a light squeeze.

"Yes … uh … thank you. I … I will have to see … how that go-goes after I've rested." Her blush was back in force, and she wasn't meeting Elsa's eyes, facts which Anna noted with a faint grin.

Kai appeared, and led the Duchess away.

Elsa retrieved the parchment and read through it again, with occasional quiet comments to herself.

"She likes you."

Her head jerking up, Elsa stared at her sister. " _What_ did you say?"

"I said, she likes you."

"Oh. Well, that is surely no surprise. She wasn't at all certain of our good graces, and is obviously grateful to have been so pleasantly received."

"That is _not_ what I mean, and you know it."

Elsa finally caught her intimation. Her mouth dropped open, her cheeks flushed, a light flurry of snow fell around her, and she gave a strangled little cough before recovering and stating primly, "Your imagination is working overtime, Anna."

"I'm not wrong."

"What _ever_ led you to that-"

"Because I was paying attention? It was _glaring_ at me, once I knew what to look for. She's totally smitten."

"Which makes absolutely no difference at all, ever. Even were I so inclined, I can't risk a close, physical relationship … with _anyone_. You know that. That's why you and Kristoff need to have children: I never will."

"I know you've _convinced_ yourself of that. And I think it's hogwash."

Gliding out of the room, Elsa said, "You know what? I'm just going to ignore you until you start making sense."

Walking a bit faster to catch up, Anna giggled and said, "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _ **How's that phrase go? Oh, yes: "Well,**_ **that** _ **escalated quickly!"**_


	22. Loose Ends - Part III

**The Guardian**

 _by Concolor44_

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 _Author's Note: This piece will form the final chapter of THIS part of the story. As you will easily be able to tell, my Muse was not content to leave it at this. We shall see if anything comes of that. I have So Very Many other stories already screaming at me to be written, and so little time to write them._

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 **Chapter 21: Loose Ends – Part III**

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 _Arendelle Castle, 17 July 1841, 2:05pm_

Frances, the considerably elder of Teresa's ladies-in-waiting, bustled into the Duchess's suite of rooms, somewhat encumbered by a small trunk. She set it beside the wardrobe and turned quickly upon hearing a muffled sob. Trotting over to the bed, she knelt beside her mistress and asked, "What is it, Y'Grace? Can I get you anything?"

"Oh, Fran! I am so very, very doomed."

"… Beggin' grace?"

"She is _amazing_. Incredible. Gracious and forgiving and fair and open and loving … and so eternally, achingly beautiful I could barely gather breath to speak."

"Oh. You'd be meanin' the Queen."

"YES!" she wailed. "I'm positive I behaved like a complete idiot. I can't remember half of what I said, and she would just gloss over it, and she spoke in such a friendly manner … but it was _only_ friendly. She doesn't … I mean, really, why would she? I'm too plain."

"If it's not bound to happen, ye shouldn't dwell on it." She paused and leaned over. "And you're _not_ plain!"

"I'm skinny. _She_ looks like a woman!"

"You're slender. And you for _sure_ look like a woman."

Teresa didn't seem to hear her. "And those eyes! Great God above, those _eyes!_ I could swim in them for days! That's what blue eyes are supposed to look like!" She choked back another sob. "That's what _any_ eyes are supposed to look like. And mine look like mud."

"Oh, for Goodness sake! Ye have _pretty_ eyes! Big and wide and dark, and they sparkle when ye laugh."

Teresa sniffed and pulled out a lacy handkerchief to wipe at her nose. "Oh, Fran … ever since the coronation ball, she's been in every other thought, nearly every dream. And that was seeing her from a distance. Up close? I was useless. She is just overwhelmingly … so totally … you know what I mean? Right?"

"Yes, dear. I know what ye mean. But did ye feel a spark? Any interest at all? You'd know, I'll wager."

Burying her face in the pillow, Teresa whimpered, "No. Nothing. She was correct and proper and just … _perfect_ … and gave no evidence of anything, not even a little curiosity. None. Zilch."

Frances rubbed her back. "It will get better, if it's meant to be."

"I am so doomed." She turned over onto her back. "Completely doomed."

"Meaning?"

"She wants me there at dinner. And we have to work together to hammer out the trade agreements. And I'll be here, and be around her, for the better part of a week. And I'm supposed to just act _normal? Seriously?"_

"Mayhap she'll have a Minister of Trade ye can work with instead?"

"… But … but then I wouldn't get to see her."

"Tsk! You're bein' _that_ hard to please, I'll say that for ye."

Teresa pulled the pillow over onto her face. Frances heard a barely audible, "Doomed."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _Arendelle Castle Courtyard, 01 August 1841, 5:10pm_

One of the guard had spotted Kristoff on Sven when they were still half a league off. That gave Anna plenty of time to set up a welcome. In typical Anna fashion, it was pretty straightforward: she glomped him before he had both feet on the ground.

A rather enjoyable forty or fifty seconds later, they paused for breath. She spoke first. "So I guess you got your fears all laid to rest, nice and neat?"

"Some of them. At least I'm not afraid I'll break your bones with this thing anymore." He smoothed her hair back with his stony fingers.

"Your letters were cryptic. And short. Much _too_ short, as I believe I mentioned, oh, twenty-five or thirty times."

He didn't offer any excuse for why they were cryptic. He did not yet want to tell her what Pabbie had told him: that his partial transformation into a troll might have affected his ability to father children. The old shaman wasn't sure either way, but he put the possibility out there. Kristoff would have time to discuss it with Anna before their eventual wedding … but today was not that day. He wanted to see her happy, and that would just give her one more thing to worry over. "There wasn't much to write about. It was the same sorts of exercises every day. And I didn't get out much, either." (Neither had he gone into specifics about Grandpabbie's cave.)

She'd yet to remove her arms from his neck. "You're out now."

"True enough." He kissed her again. And again. Once more. "What would you like to do to celebrate?"

"Go back to the Nissefoss?"

"… Are you … you _are_ serious! Thor's Beard, _why?_ We got ambushed there!"

"And we never got to finish our picnic. And now it's safe. There are no brigands. I'll get Elsa to make me a couple of small Sentinels to … hey, for that matter, we could ride 'em. Yeah, that'll work!"

Kristoff reflected on that. "It would be more comfortable than the carriage, for sure. And, yeah, with the Sentinels around, we'd be pretty safe." He nodded. "Okay. Sounds good."

"The Sentinels … and you." She snuggled against his chest. "I feel safest when I'm with you."

 _The feeling is mutual_ , ran his thoughts.

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. . .

. . .

 _The Pope's Chambers, The Vatican, 05 August 1841, 10:45pm_

 _You'd think that, with all the money God's given him, His Holiness could afford some more comfortable chairs._ Paulo perched stoically on the hard seat as he waited for the old man to make an appearance. Of course he knew why the chairs were hard and angular, and it wasn't _solely_ due to the fact that Gregory XVI had been a monk (though that doubtless factored in). This small side-chamber was rarely used – never for important visitors – and frequently dusty. But the job he'd been assigned was sensitive enough that such clandestine meeting arrangements were necessary.

He looked up when the door opened, then stood and bowed.

The Pope, though nearly seventy-six years old, was still active and fairly robust … and he busied himself every waking minute with consolidating the power of the Church and the supremacy of the Papacy. When he first heard of the Snow Queen, he dismissed the stories as flights of fancy. But as more and more confirmations came in, he decided to investigate the situation himself. That's when he tapped Cardinal Isperizza to head up an Inquisitorial Delegation to Arendelle.

But the Cardinal was not his only – or even primary – source of information. Paulo had been spying for the old fellow since he attained the See a decade earlier, and Gregory made sure he had a position in Isperizza's group.

Pope Gregory strode over and took his (much better) seat behind the desk, giving Paulo an expectant look. "Well. I've got Isperizza's recommendation."

"He wants you to pronounce her anathema."

"Of course. She's Lutheran, in addition to her … unusual abilities. Were it up to him, we'd be hosting an _auto-da-fé_. He despises Lutherans on principle, and is one of the most superstitious men I've ever known."

Grinning, Paulo quipped, "So a perfect Grand Inquisitor."

"Yes."

"But now you want the rest of the story."

He cocked an eyebrow, "If it's not too much trouble." Waving at a sideboard, he added, "There is mulled wine in there if you're thirsty."

"Thank you." He rose and fetched himself a glass, taking his seat again. "It's something of a hodgepodge, as with most stories. To start with, her abilities are innate. She was, by all accounts, born with the power to create ice. Per information from the old servant who has known her all her life, she was regularly frosting her crib before attaining six months of age."

"And her parents allowed her to live. Remarkable."

"Ah, well. You know there is only one perfect baby in the world, and every mother has it."

The Pope allowed himself a subdued chuckle. "Indeed. So. She is not a sorceress."

"Or a witch."

"Or a witch. Fortunate for her, I suppose. Tell me about her rule."

"She's just, fair, and merciful, by turns. Justice would decree that the disgraced Prince who tried to kill her be hanged. Instead, she banished him. I would not have done so."

"Neither would I. What led her to exhibit such mercy? Did he pay her off?"

"No. I would attribute it to her youth, and the fact that she had been a recluse for thirteen years."

Pope Gregory rubbed his chin, frowning. "What was that? Recluse, you say? Why?"

"The story – and I got it from the Captain of the Guard – is that when she was eight years old, she and her younger sister were playing in the snow."

"A common activity that far north, I'd assume."

"It was summer-time. They were playing in the ballroom, in snow Elsa created."

Slowly crossing his arms, the Pope said, "… I see."

"Somehow, she managed to injure her sister with her magic. No one seems privy to the details, but the old King and Queen managed to save the girl's life. After that, the sisters were kept apart. Elsa stayed in her room most of the time, consumed by guilt for the injury and fear that the next time she would kill her sister." He tapped the desktop absently. "They love each other dearly. It really is quite too sweet."

"And she stayed sequestered for thirteen _years?"_

"The general assumption given by those I spoke with is that the King felt she could learn to repress her power that way."

"From the fact that she laid a few ells of snow over her entire kingdom in high summer, I deduce that was less than successful."

"Correct."

"But she has control now. Isperizza was quite detailed in the descriptions of the things that she made for him." He shook his head in wonder. "A psaltery? A perfect crucifix? An illuminated Decalogue? A useable copy of the Gospel of St. Matthew? It beggars imagination."

"True. She has practically littered the town with ice sculptures. I sketched a few of them, the more impressive ones. She has a scale model of the castle that really must be seen to be believed."

"… You sound as if you admire her."

"I do."

The Pope leaned back, cracked a few knuckles, and stared out the window for a moment. The stars hung brilliant against the darkness. _I used to have time to appreciate the night sky._ "Do you think she could be converted?"

"I have no idea. But I _will_ tell you this: If I could be _half_ the Christian she is, I'd not fear spending one moment in Purgatory."

Gregory stared at him for two breaths. "… You realize that statement is skirting dangerously close to heresy."

"Per Church doctrine, yes. However, if she were Catholic, her body wouldn't even be cold before she was elevated to Sainthood."

"… Explain yourself."

"Do you know what happened to her sister during the Great Freeze?"

"Her sister? No, I'd not heard. Isperizza mentioned nothing about her sister, other than that she had one."

"The Queen ran away from the coronation ball. She climbed a tall mountain in a matter of a couple of hours, a mountain that it took a mounted troop most of a day to climb. Once there, she erected a palace of ice."

The Pope held up a hand. "Stop. A _palace?"_

"I got descriptions from a few of the soldiers, and part of a description from the Princess."

"The Princess?"

"She'd chased after the Queen when she fled."

"Hmm. So. How big is this 'palace'?"

"Some two hundred and fifty ells tall, and covering at least two acres."

"Impossible."

"Yet there it stands."

"And she built it … in _one night?"_

"In considerably less than one hour. The castle was complete by dawn, and the nights there only last four or five hours at that time of year."

"Astounding." He fiddled with his Papal ring for a bit. "It would certainly be worth our effort to try to convert her."

"I won't disagree. In any case, when her sister found her, the Queen struck her with her ice magic once more. Again, by all accounts, it was an accident, as the Queen did not yet have full control."

"And obviously not fatal. I assume they used the same method to save her as before?"

"No. For reasons I could not tease out, whatever was done to her as a child was … either ineffective or not available."

"Then how is it that she didn't die?"

"Oh, but she _did_ die."

"… . . . … . . . … What?"

"It was gradual, but she froze solid. It happened out on the fjord, in front of many witnesses. That disgraced Prince was in the act of striking at the Queen with his sword when the Princess intervened. As he was swinging, she froze to solid ice. His sword broke on the Princess's hand."

"… Broke."

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Again, many witnesses."

"Then how is she alive?"

"Popular opinion is that Love saved her."

" _How?"_

"When the Queen saw that her sister had frozen, she threw herself on the girl and wept bitterly. In a few moments, the Princess thawed out. Very shortly after that, the Queen thawed the rest of the land. There was no damage to speak of, no crops lost." He bit at a fingernail. "It is widely accepted that the Queen's tears saved her, and the Queen's love, discovered and bolstered by her sister, saved the country. The power of Pure Love restored her to life."

The Pope stared at him in disbelief for most of a minute. "You are talking about a string of certifiable miracles."

"Refer to my earlier comment about Sainthood."

This news troubled the Pope. If it became widely known that miracles could occur outside the aegis of the Church …

Paulo cleared his throat and took a sip of wine. "There's another thing you need to know."

"Am I going to like it any better than these?"

"Hardly. You know of Weselton's animosity, yes?"

"Of course. The little irritant would hardly shut up about her. That's why I sent Isperizza. But the Duke never said anything about miracles!"

"Well, he wouldn't. He felt slighted."

"She cut off trade with them. I'd feel slighted, too."

"Ha. As to that, after she fled, he had his men track her to her ice palace and try to kill her. She would have been within her rights to execute them for that. Yet she simply tossed them out of Arendelle and cut off trade."

A long-suffering sigh preceded, "More of that 'Mercy' you touched on earlier?"

"Yes. But Weselton went much further than merely lodging complaints. When the Inquisitor left, I stayed behind, as you had desired. It is well that I did."

"You learned something even more astounding than her miracle?"

"I did. As it happens, Weselton attempted a covert invasion."

"From the tone of his letters, that doesn't surprise me."

"They made a few incursions. Burned one village and slew everyone. When the Queen heard about it, she was … most exercised. She set out to stop it."

"Set out? You mean personally?"

"Yes. She and a corps of Marines. But the soldiers were there, as I learned, solely to protect the Queen, not to fight the invaders. Well, not specifically."

"… I'm not following you."

Paulo leaned his elbows on the desk, rested his chin on his fists. "What Queen Elsa did was stop in every village and hamlet from the capitol to the border and leave a creation behind."

"Creation? What do you mean?"

"I mean, Your Holiness, that she can create life."

Gregory stared at him. The silence stretched out long enough that Paulo simply picked up his narrative. "I followed their company, close enough to keep track, but far enough to escape notice. In the first tiny village, they paused long enough for Queen Elsa to meet with the elders, then she crafted a great Beast." When the Pope still didn't say anything, he continued, "It looks like a snow-hill, at least twelve ells tall and maybe half again that wide. It has a long neck, six _very_ long arms, and six thick legs. She leaves them there to guard the villages."

"… When you say 'guard' …"

"These creatures are intelligent."

The Pope whispered something and rubbed his hands across his pate, staring at the desktop. Finally, "You are _sure_ of this? Dead sure?"

"When the Queen's party moved on, I rode into the village. It was playing with the children."

"… What?" Gregory felt that he'd been using that word entirely too often in this meeting.

"It would pick them up and place them on its back, and they would slide down. They seemed delighted."

The old man turned and stared out the window, drumming his fingers on the desk. "… Playing."

"Yes."

"With the children."

"Correct."

"… How do you know it was intelligent?"

"I held a conversation with it."

Mouth open. Mouth closed. Mouth open.

"It was very polite. Also, it was fluent in Italian."

Gregory knocked his head against the back of his chair, then stood and began pacing.

"My assumption is that it can speak all the languages Queen Elsa can speak. She knows several."

The Pope rubbed at his face and blew a long breath. "You did say I wouldn't like this."

"I did."

"Why did Isperizza not report any of this?"

"Apart from his closed-carriage trip to and from his ship, he never stepped out of the castle. They have an excellent chef in their kitchen, and as you know, Isperizza-"

"Yes, yes, Isperizza, above all else, loves his fine food. Thus his unwieldy figure. It's a poor example for a Cardinal to set."

"Exactly."

Another pause. "So … how many?"

"Beasts?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. How many villages does Arendelle boast?"

"And … made of snow?"

"Snow and ice. It had three things like fingers on the ends of its arms, but hidden _inside_ the end of the arm was what looked like a curved blade made of ice. I didn't ask what it was for, but the intent was obvious. The creature – it said its name was Þurs – was adamant that its primary purpose was the protection of the village."

Frowning at the unfamiliar name, Gregory gestured for further explanation.

"It's from the old Norse. It means 'giant'. Or possibly 'monster'. I'm not sure which."

The old man ambled back to his seat, eased himself down, and stared into the middle distance. After a time, he asked, "Is there any more?"

Giving his head a decisive shake, Paulo answered, "Not at this time. Though I _would_ like to return to Arendelle, by your leave."

Absently, Gregory nodded. "Fine. Yes, that's … fine." Turning to the other man, he said, "She can create _life?_ She brought her sister _back_ from the _dead?_ She commands the forces of winter? And Weselton is complaining about _trade?_ Is the man barking mad?"

"Not far from it, Holiness."

Another minute passed in silence. "Yes. Return to Arendelle. I would like for you to feel her out. See if you can establish her exact stance on doctrine. If the Church could at least gain a foothold …"

"The Church _has_ a foothold, Holiness."

"What? How?"

"There is a small Catholic community there. In fact, Queen Elsa created a meeting house for them."

"… A meeting house."

"Yes."

"… Of ice?"

"Yes. And before you ask, no, it doesn't melt. It's magical ice."

"Of course it is." His voice was strained. "So … she is at least favorably disposed toward the Church?"

"Sort of." He repositioned himself, took a long swallow of wine. Another. "Arendelle is an odd place. It is small and remote and sparsely populated, and the terrain is difficult. Historically, it's been left alone, and they like it that way. As such, they have plowed their own path, philosophically. They don't have a state church. A simple majority of them are Lutheran, but there is that Catholic group I mentioned, and a small Jewish synagogue. The old native religion of the Sami is also practiced by a few. And there are some that eschew religion entirely."

"How can that be?"

"They take 'live and let live' to its ludicrous extreme, that's how. Proselytizing is not exactly discouraged, but … hmm … if you stop the average man on the street and engage him in a conversation about his soul, usually he'll listen politely, then give you his version, wish you a good day, and go on about his business."

"That doesn't seem like a workable model for a society."

"If it were much bigger, it might not be. But they aren't. They're small, and insular, and they cling fiercely to this concept of freedom of conscience."

That really went against the grain, as far as Gregory was concerned. He wanted the Church to be acknowledged as the only source of truth, wanted it to direct the affairs of government by holding sway over monarchs. That was the natural order of things.

This news from Arendelle shook him to his core.

"Well. Very interesting." He was playing with his ring again. "Yes. Go back to Arendelle."

"Is it your intention, Holiness, to declare her anathema?"

A few slow shakes of his head prefaced, "That would be neither productive nor politic. We need to take a different road. Direct confrontation sounds as if it would be a very bad idea."

"I'd agree with that, Holiness."

Nodding decisively, he added, "We need to bring her around to our way of thinking. But it must be done slowly. Carefully. She needs to see the advantages of the Church."

"That won't be easy. Isperizza left a bad taste in her mouth, I can guarantee you that."

"Hmm. That's unfortunate." The ceiling got the benefit of his gaze for a few breaths. "How about this: you identify a few that you trust, who you think can fit in with that society, and take them with you. Join the local Church. Find out everything you can. Then come back to me in the spring, and we'll see what may be done."

"As you command, Holiness."

. . .

. . .

. . .

 _ **Thus ends "The Guardian".**_

 _ **That being said, as you can see from recent installments, this thing is just BEGGING me for a sequel or two. Drama, drama, drama.**_

 _ **How-some-ever you take it, leave a review and let me know what you think, and whether you'd like to see a sequel, and what that sequel should cover.**_

 _ **Cheers!**_

 _ **Con**_


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